Jonohkada

CHAPTER 13

An alarm sounds. It’s muffled only by the serviceable plasterboard that forms the wall separating my side of the rookery wall from my neighbor’s, and if there’s any discernible difference between this day’s alarm and the alarms of every day previous that I’ve spent in the Academy, my body can’t tell. I’m triggered into the routine that’s been drilled into me for solars.

It blares me straight into standing at attention.

“Jonoh?” someone calls. The feminine voice of a princess.

It’s puzzling to have a princess here. But after solars of being conditioned to accept everything without question, I know better than to question anything. I simply do as I’ve been trained to do: I’m on my feet beside my bed, my wings clamped high against my back, ready for room inspection. And because I”m adept at passing room inspections without being fully conscious—a trick all Academy graduates learn—I’m still enjoying the last dregs of sleep. Vertically.

“...Jonoh?” the princess calls again, more hesitantly.

And then an alien animal appears in my periphery, padding softly across the very plush blanket that appears too soft to belong in the rookery and certainly too fine to belong to me, and the creature bumps her cranium against my hand which I have pressed flat against my thigh.

At the contact, my old routine breaks and memories rush in: this is Saphkarra, we are in Hannah’s room, I’ve met my mate Hannah, and last night my mate slept with me.

I flinch as I recall just how she came to fall asleep with me.

“Jonoh?” Hannah asks for the third time. She sounds concerned.

My wings flare slightly as I snap my focus on her, reflexes still caught in my formative programming where hobs like myself must give immediate and full attention to every authority. Unfortunately, the edge of my wing closest to the bed comes into abrupt contact with the lamp on the nightstand behind me, sending it rocking and tumbling toward the floor.

I whirl and catch it before it crashes.

“Wow,” Hannah breathes, sounding a shade impressed. “Just for the record, it wouldn’t have been a big deal if it fell. It isn”t a museum piece. I got it for nothing on Amazon before inflation killed America. But that was an awesome save. You’re fast.”

Taking in her beautifully disheveled appearance, my voice comes out startlingly husky. “Thank you. Sometimes I can be quite fast.”

Julie grumbles from the other side of the wall, “Be still my lady bits. What every woman wants to hear.”

I rush to reassure Hannah. “I am proficient in bringing a simulated female to culmination before I myself reach orgasm.”

The other side of the wall makes a loud scoff.

Hannah is blinking rapidly. “Uhhh…”

“It is one of the tests every graduate must pass,” I explain.

“Sure…” Hannah says. With a bewildered smile, she searches my face—I believe she’s seeking confirmation that I’m entirely present with her.

I am. I am fully awake from my formative programming sequence.

Saphkarra’s purring increases in decibels, and she presses herself very firmly against my hand while she drags the side of her face and body over my fingers.

Hannah clears her throat. “Better feed her,” she advises.

Taking up my pet in my arms, I do indeed fill her food bowl, change out her water for freshened water, and clean her litterbox. Because the litterbox is in the bathing and cleansing unit, this task occurs after Hannah emerges smelling of strong herb-like chemicals with her every exhale, leading me to surmise that she’s attended to her teeth with human tooth cleaner.

Using my own tooth cleaner, I do the same after taking care of my own morning needs and manage to reattach the cleansing unit’s door handle after applying a powerful adhesive manufactured on my planet. Then I hurry out of the room to rejoin Hannah, unable to stay away a moment longer.

I find her in the food preparation area, somewhat bleary-eyed and moving with the sluggishness I’ve seen far, far too many times from observing many other human females.

My Hannah is suffering from a lack of coffee.

Julie enters the food preparation area, and by her lurching, shuffling gait confirms that she too is suffering from the same lack, but while some human individuals fall quiet and ‘zombie-like,’ as humans tend to describe their pre-coffee morning state, Julie exhibits the rarer expression of coffee deprivation—she’s irritable and discontent with life in general and everyone in the vicinity in particular. “Why don’t I smell coffee brewing? If I’m awake without coffee people are going to die,” she declares.

“Guess people are going to die,” Hannah mumbles. “We didn’t program the coffee maker last night,” she says morosely.

Julie slices me with a glare. “I blame our alien distraction.”

Hannah grinds to a halt, a satchel of ground beans clutched in her hands. “You can’t blame Jonoh!” she protests loyally.

My wings draw up and rest easily against my back. “It is all right. I am surely a disruption and therefore am a distraction in your routines. I deeply apologize,” I say to both of them.

Julie grumble-sighs. “Forgiven.”

Hannah tilts her head, her expression kind. “You don’t need to apologize.”

My gaze sweeps over her and I desperately want to caretake her person. How fortunate that I can see to her necessary nutrition needs. “I’m trained to make human coffee.”

“It’s okay, Jonoh. I’ve got it,” Hannah says, and raises the satchel she’s holding. She sets it on the counter, then struggles to open the small flexible tabs that keep the beans from being exposed to air.

I move to stand beside her, smiling down at her even as my wings clench with anxiety. “Allow me. I’ve been trained to make specialty coffees that are described as ‘desserts’ and ‘luxury rocket fuel.’”

“Give the man the bag of coffee, Hannah,” Julie orders.

And as if she too must follow commands, Hannah holds out the satchel to me—and she stares at me like she’s famished.

I expertly open the coffee satchel’s tabs and open the coffee making machine, which is much smaller than the one I am used to operating. Thankfully I work quickly, because Julie’s brows are a disgruntled line of caffeine deficiency.

I send a questioning glance at the fridge, because the best coffee desserts require cream, an ingredient that was not called for and therefore not one I inventoried in the ice cream making session from last night. “Hannah, do you have whole cream from a dairy mammal?”

“Why, we do,” Hannah replies with a smile, and saunters to the fridge to get it for me, causing my eyes to fix on her derriere.

Suddenly struggling to think, I manage, “I will also require mammalian milk for the frothed portion of your drinks. Do you have an espresso machine?”

Hannah, reaching into the fridge, glances over her shoulder, presumably to answer me. And thus she catches me in the act of blatantly staring at her rear assets.

Her face colors.

I can relate. My wings feel hot enough to act as cooking surfaces for avian eggs.

“Save me from the chemistry,” Julie sighs from the food preparation area’s freestanding cupboard-with-a-countertop unit—called an island, Hannah told me last evening—where she’s seating herself. “No, we don’t own an espresso machine.”

Clearing my throat, I nod briskly. “All right then. Where are your other coffees?”

Hannah brings me the milk, and as she hands it to me, she meets my eyes and holds my gaze long enough for a spark to light inside me. Then she brushes against me as she opens the cupboard we’re in front of and reveals ground Robusta and Arabica beans.

“Perfect,” I declare.

Hannah slides her gaze to me, and finds me looking at her. Not the coffee beans. Which are also perfect.

She takes two quick steps back, and I force myself to stop staring at her and instead face the coffee machine. “I… uh, I require three mixing containers of decent size to work the coffees,” I announce.

Hannah provides them, and I quickly grind and roast the three coffees while I make whipped cream.

“Do you have java chips?” I murmur distractedly.

“Nope,” Hannah says. “Sorry, Jonoh. If we could afford those, we could afford buying coffees at Mermaid Beans.”

My human friends warned that my future mate’s food preparation area was unlikely to stock all the ingredients necessary to woo her with my coffee crafting skills. Undefeated, I hum to myself—it’s almost an arousal purr, and Hannah’s eyes widen, I note out of my periphery—as I reach for one of the pump-style containers lined up behind the coffee machine. “Mocha syrup,” I read aloud, and nod. I select another syrup and taste test it, deciding it’s close enough to what I’ve been trained to use.

I begin to barista their coffee. “Do you have cookies?”

They do, some of which are chocolate ones, which is excellent. I take several of the chocolate cookies from the sleeve of premade cookies—at the earliest opportunity, I will bake cookies in this food preparation area to woo my mate with treats I have been trained to create in her rookery—and crush them into crumbles.

Hannah and Julie watch me raptly as I incorporate them into their necessary morning beverages.

Hannah provides me trays of water that have been frozen into cube shapes. Next she hands me a machine that grinds the ice into smaller bits while mixing the cream and coffee and syrup into a slurry. I garnish the result with a topping of finer whipped cream and caramel drizzle. Turning to Hannah, I offer her the first mug.

“Am I invisible?” Julie growls, swiping her mug from my hand before I can bring it to her.

“Sorry!” I say.

“Try not to let her get to you, she’s just grumpy in the… all the time,” Hannah stage whispers. Dropping her attention to her coffee, she takes the first sip of her drink.

Her eyes fly open wide. Her attention leaps to me. Her expression slackens with astonishment.

“Do you like it?” I ask softly.

“I LOVE it,” she tells me, her gaze rapt on my face.

“DAMN,” Julie declares from the island. Her eyes are closed as she addresses me. “I didn’t know you could do this with whipped cream and cookies, and I thought I knew everything about whipped cream and cookies,” she moans, her mane in morning disarray, her coffee’s foam on her upper lip. “I’m so glad you beamed down from an alien planet and barged into our apartment to be our coffee slave, Jonoh.”

“You are welcome,” I tell her kindly.

“You aren’t our slave,” Hannah assures me.

“Speak for yourself,” Julie says quite seriously, and they greedily consume their drinks while I clean the impromptu coffee preparation station while surreptitiously sending looks at mate, who sends shy smiles my way every time she catches me.

I let her catch me every time.

“Not to interrupt the googly eyes you two are making at each other, but after Jonoh got done so quick last night, how’d you two sleep?” Julie asks with an arched brow.

Hannah gets up from her seat to return the whole cream from a dairy mammal and closes the refrigeration unit with her hip, sashaying back to her nearly emptied mug of coffee and taking it lovingly in her hands. Staring into my eyes, she tells Julie, “I had the best sleep of my life last night. Thanks for asking.”

Julie rolls her eyes. “Only after he drugged you with his alien sexing skills.”

I freeze.

“Except there was no drugging alien sex. We didn’t,” Hannah is starting to say. “We didn’t have sex at… all…” She cants her head, her brow furrowing. “Jonoh? Wh—”

“Why are you looking guilty?” Julie cuts in.

I don’t answer. Shamefaced, I don’t take my eyes off of Hannah. The worry line developing between Hannah’s brows deepens. “Jonoh,” she says slowly. “Why did that make you look guilty? The last thing I remember…” She stares at me. “I was going to ask you to hand me my cell phone... But I don’t remember anything after that. What happened?”

I shrink in shame. My wing talons begin worrying.

Saphkarra chooses that moment to stroll up to me. She sits on my foot and begins to vibrate with nearly inaudible purring, and I think it is her feline way of attempting to give me courage.

It isn’t working.

“Jonoh?”

“Yes?”

“What did you do to me after?”

“Absolutely nothing!” Which is a factually accurate answer, but my guilt must be leaking evidence into my face and voice because she narrows her eyes at me as if she’s reading that I’ve lied.

“What happened? Tell me.”

“I panicked and purred you into a harmless unconscious heap!” I blurt out.

She looks very confused. “You… purred me to sleep?”

“Yes,” I confirm. And I briefly explain the effect a hob’s purr has on human females.

“Really?” Hannah asks, dumbfounded.

“Truly. I would offer to demonstrate, but you just woke up.”

Hannah takes my hand, making my breath catch and my wings snap straight. “Okay, you can’t purr me to sleep every time we get into bed together. Tell me when you’re uncomfortable and we need to move slower. Use your words.”

“His problem isn’t using words,” Julie says, taking another sip of her coffee. “Damn, Jonoh, this is amazing.” She shakes her head, looking much more awake by the moment. “His problem is boundaries. He can’t set boundaries. My guess is he doesn’t know how. Or he’s so uncomfortable he almost physically can’t. Like you,” she says, spearing Hannah with a pointed stare.

Hannah grimaces and the next glance she sends me is commiserating.

“We need to toughen you two up. Especially Jonoh. With eyebrows like his, I’m not sure how to fix him, but we need to try.”

My brows pinch. “With eyebrows like mine?”

“Yeah. Too-nice ones. Innocent ones. Hard to trust a full-grown man who walks around with a face like yours. Your eyebrows sit so high on your forehead that it gives you this wide-eyed look of, I don’t know, wholesome wonder or surprise. It’s weird.”

“Julie! He doesn’t look weird!”

“I said the way he walks around wide-eyed and happy is weird. It’s like, can you put your halo on a dimmer switch, please? It lights your face up like an easy target.”

Blinking, I attempt to process her advice.

“Ignore her,” Hannah orders, sending Julie a harsh look.

I ignore Julie as Hannah ordered and turn back to wiping up spilled ground bean dust from the counter.

“Refill,” Julie calls and holds her mug out to me.

I don’t react.

“Oh shoot! You don’t have to ignore her!” Hannah cries, realizing what she’s done.

I set down my washcloth and lift the carafe to pour the coffee mixture into Julie’s mug.

“And don’t forget the whipped cream with heaven on top,” Julie cautions me.

“I won’t,” I assure her.

“Want him to crush your cookie bits onto the top with an air of servile regret?” Hannah asks, a touch acidly, making me think she doesn’t approve of the way Julie is having me serve her.

“Gentleman’s choice what air he puts on as he works his magic,” Julie declares.

Hannah makes a growling sound, and as I crush fresh cookie crumbles over Julie’s whipped-cream-laden caramel-drizzled mug, I wonder if Hannah might be feeling threatened that I’m serving another female. I resolve to ask her when we have privacy.

“I’m not in a bitchy mood,” Hannah denies, making me realize I missed some interaction between herself and Julie. Whatever was said, Hannah is now gazing at me in a fashion that makes my hearts pound. Her mane, like Julie’s, is similarly disheveled, but I’m having a harder time not focusing on it. She is especially lovely to me, and as her lips pull off of her coffee mug, my gaze stays glued to them, watching as they form her next words. “Jonohkada made magic with coffee, and I’m in a great mood. I’m going to marry him.”

I’d just raised the carafe to offer her a refill too. At her claim though, I spill the steaming hot beverage down my front, such is my shock.

Julie smirks and uses her mug to salute Hannah. “I was gonna say if you didn’t, I would—but I can see you blew his RHHSS mind. I’ll leave you two alone.”

“RHHSS?” I query, swiping at my steaming front as I clutch the carafe in my other hand.

Hannah grins at me. “You.”

“Ridiculously hot, humble, single, andstraight,” Julie calls, moving down the hallway toward the showering station.

My eyes widen on Hannah.

Hannah shrugs before she nods, appearing somewhat sheepish until she takes her next sip of coffee. She sighs happily, then stares at me in a way that makes her appear quite hungry. The quality of her attention is such that it makes my wings heat.

Unfortunately, the moment isn’t meant to last. Her next words destroy the pleasant morning. “I need to get to work.”

It’s with dread that I ask for clarification. “With Mick?”

Hannah stares at me for a beat before bursting into laughter. “Yeah, with Mick, the bird.”

My wings clench. I swallow hard.

Hannah gives me a kindly smile before turning away and leaving to take her shower.

I stare after her, anxious. Will Mick wrap his wings around her and hug her like he did yesterday?

A worse thought. Will she appreciate having his wings around her and hug him back?

It’s likely she will. Mick is, unfortunately, charming in a gregarious, domineering way. Like an Earthen Rakhii, I think, my wing talons worrying themselves.

Saphkarra leaps on top of the island’s counter.

Swiftly I pick her up, half of me luxuriating in the feel of her thick fur pressing against my arm and sleep shirt-clad chest. I set her back on the floor, and she gives me a disgruntled look before storming away, leaving me alone with my imagination which is replaying the closeness between Hannah and the store mascot.

I locate a closet with cleaning supplies and viciously begin sweeping and mopping the floor.

By the time both females exit their rooms, their manes styled impeccably, I’m silently acting out my frustrations and mounting alarm by attacking the chalk-like deposits at the washing station’s spout with a fibrous, woven pad of abrading bristles.

“Oh my land,” says Hannah, with such wonder that I immediately abandon my scouring to take her in. “You”re cleaning.”

She’s stunning.

“I am. What are you wearing?” I ask hoarsely.

Her smile freezes and she looks down at herself, brows drawn. “Do I look bad?”

“NO,” I say. “To the contrary, you look… exceptional.” I have to clear my throat to continue. “I meant, what is that style called?”

“Oh.” Her cheeks flush and she smiles at me shyly. “It’s a vintage wool A-line high waist skirt.” She crosses a forearm in front of herself, the back of her hand toward me, displaying a ring on her middlemost finger with a large gemstone in a glittering pink. But what she’s indicating is the white fabric sitting in intricately gathered ripples along the middle of her forearm. “This is a shirred blouse.”

“Look at you,” Julie murmurs in a mocking tone. “You’ve spontaneously decided to dress up in your best skirt and bombshell heels. Gotta impress the hamsters and that parrot, huh?”

Hannah’s face colors.

My wings’ fringe rattles, making Julie frown and glance at me. Hannah glances over at me too, but I’m staring hard at Julie.

Julie’s face registers surprise when she raises her gaze from my wings and sees my face.

“Don’tembarrass Hannah,” I warn her. “It isn’t nice.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Hannah’s mouth drop open.

I turn to her, and force my wings closed. “I think your spontaneity is praiseworthy,” I affirm, my eyes caught on her footwear now that Julie has pointed them out. Elegant black straps circle the front of Hannah’s ankles, emphasizing the swell of her calf and making her ankles look dainty. A graceful black strap lays across the joints of her toes. “And absolutely beautiful.”

“Thank you, Jonoh,” says Hannah.

Julie clears her throat. “Sorry, Hannah.”

Hannah gives her a small nod.

“You’d better bring a pair of gym shoes,” Julie advises her in a much kinder tone. “And walk in them, not those, or you’ll be sorry.”

Hannah frowns at her. “You walk in your heels.”

“And I’m always sorry,” Julie says.

“Your footwear is lovely, Julie,” I say.

“That means a lot, coming from a guy who hasn’t pulled his eyes off of Hannah since she walked out here,” Julie comments, and strides over to a stand of coats and selects a purse from it, slinging it around her shoulder.

Hannah, giving Julie a silent warning-tinged stare, does the same, and the purse Hannah fits over her shoulder is some sort of tanned animal leather, accentuating the muted color scheme of her skirt and blouse.

I stare at her, and against my will, I watch a pair of phantom avian alien’s wings wrap around her body. My hands fist, and the abrasive woven pad I’m still holding in my hand is squeezed so fiercely that it squirts water out from between my bunched fingers.

With a quiet curse, I drop down to one knee and take the small towel from off of my shoulder and run it over the floor to clean up the droplets.

“Julie, look. Jonoh is cleaning again without being asked,” Hannah says, and when I glance up at her, I find her eyes are wide and mollifyingly appreciative on me. “We have to keep him.”

My hearts swell. My wings burst open.

Julie is frowning. “Okay, I agree that this cleaning thing he does is cool. And we definitely need him for tomorrow”s coffee. But for now, he’s got to go.”

“Go?” Hannah asks, also frowning now as she looks at her roommate. “He’s not leaving, Julie.” She raises her cell phone unit and consults its face for the time of this dimension.

But Julie raises her eyebrows and leans forward, sending an incredulous look at Hannah. “We can’t leave him here. Not alone, and especially not alone with technology, like our computers!”

Hannah is frowning at her. “Why? You don’t trust him?” She asks this in such obvious shock that I’m warmed to my hearts.

“No, I don’t trust him!” Julie firmly confirms.

I blink at her, my wings crumpling. They meet the floor with an elastic slap.

Julie is still speaking. “Look at him. This guy’s got the bullshit detector of a Precious Moments puppy. He will fall for every bleeding heart scam in the book. We cannot leave him alone until we’ve taught him the ropes here,” she claims, rolling her eyes.

“He’ll be fine—”

Making an aggravated noise, Julie fixes a hard stare on me that has my already meager confidence shriveling. “Jonoh, if a Nigerian prince sends us a message saying he’s our long-lost relative who desperately wants to give us six million dollars, what will you say?”

I stand straighter. “I’ll vow to help your royal relatives in any way I can,” I earnestly assure them both.

To my dismay, both women groan.

Hannah stares at me, and Julie tips her head as she throws her hand in my direction. “See?”

“You’ve made your point,” Hannah sighs sadly. She moves to me and rubs her hand along my arm. I stare down at her hand, stunned because I feel a reaction to her touch in every place on my person. “What are we going to do with you?” she asks.

Every possibility of what Hannah could do to me flashes behind my eyes. I exhale in a stutter.

Julie snorts. “You’re going to hurt him if you keep asking him leading questions like that.” Then she pins me with a hard look. “Thanks for doing dishes and cleaning and making food yesterday. And making coffee today to rival Mermaid Beans,” she adds weightily, clearly signifying which of these is most important among the list. “Being our house elf is great, but we still have to feed you if you’re staying and we can barely afford ourselves. You need gainful employment, something I doubt an alien can obtain—”

“He can come work with me!” Hannah asserts.

“No, he can’t because you aren’t standing up to your asshole boss telling her that you’re done working two jobs for the wage of one. Plus, Jonoh, you don’t have a social security card or any of the identification—”

“I have all the necessary forgeries of this region’s identification,” I inform her and Hannah proudly.

Julie”s eyes narrow. “How?”

“Na’rith pirates,” I explain.

“What are those?” Hannah asks curiously.

“They are experts in theft. They charged me a small fortune for the cards and papers, but I assure you they will be sufficient forms of documentation.”

“Do you have something to hide your wings under besides that Assassins Creed hoodie you were wearing yesterday?” Julie asks dubiously.

“I have several garment options that will camouflage my wings,” I confirm.

“Fine. How long are you going to be here?” Julie asks, fixing me yet again with a narrow-eyed stare.

Reluctant to speak my intentions and possibly spook my mate, I slide a covert glance at Hannah.

“Ah,” Julie says as if she’s ascertained my reason. “Okay.” She paces, hands steepled. “Until Hannah gets the balls to demand that her boss hire someone—”

Hannah grimaces, clearly not anticipating the collection of the balls necessary to make demands on her employer.

“—you, Jonoh,” Julie stresses, “to manage the pet store, why don’t you come work with me?”

I look at her in surprise. “With you?”

She nods. “I’m a legal secretary. Technically. But I do the job of an underpaid paralegal. I do practically everything the firm’s lawyers do with none of the legal accountability.” She considers me for a moment, then tips her head. “We could use another secretary. I think you’d be good at it.”

“What does a legal secretary do?” I ask with equal parts trepidation and curiosity. I like the idea of working with humans. And I want to prove to Hannah that I can contribute to her rookery.

“Well, at this firm, it means you’re probably going to end up as the Guy Friday. You’ll do a little bit of whatever anyone needs you to. In most other places you’d be treated with respect and consideration, but we don’t do that at our firm.”

“You don’t?”

“Nope, that’s for places who care about retaining their staff. Our firm will work you like a pit pony.”

My wings brighten at the unfamiliar term. “One moment, please. I’m mentally attempting to index what sort of alien animal a pit pony is.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re about to be it. That is, if you can meet deadlines.”

An image of a shaggy Narwari-type animal pops into my head. It”s harnessed to a cart full of coal. My brain also supplies that pit ponies are overworked in often subpar conditions until they die. Inhumane treatment, essentially. Just like hobs when we”re taken captive and put to work on alien planets. “I will endeavor to be punctual,” I promise.

“Then you’re hired. You’re going to hate it.”