Chapter Six
Delaney
Few things could beat the sight of a giant mothman in a too-tight Christmas sweater. She held back her giggles but couldn’t keep the stupid grin off her face.
“Oh! That looks so good. Does it feel okay? You know”—she looked pointedly at his wings—“for those bad boys?”
“Bad boys?” He shifted his wings, the swirling patterns reflecting in the muted light.
Maelic frowned at her reaction but nodded.
“The fabric is quite comfortable, actually. I also find the design amusing. What a fierce beast the little one is, to ride such a monstrous creature! Are these local fauna?” He asked it so seriously.
Delaney couldn’t hold her laughter back.
“Oh, the cat? Those are local. The T-Rex is actually extinct.” She managed to get the words out even through the laughter bubbling in her throat. “Cats are quite fierce, though. They aren’t scared of anything and act like they own everything.”
“What noble beasts these cats are.” He nodded like it made total sense.
And with that, they began to trek into the woods. Maelic kept glancing down at some super techy watch thing on his wrist.
“It is not far. The pod automatically enacted a cloaking device during the crash.” He sounded a little wistful. “This is not a true spacecraft like Axiom fliers are. It is an escape pod.”
“Oh? So the flier, that’s like a big UFO thing?” She felt a little out of her depth, awestruck at the reality of actual alien spacecrafts.
“UFO?”
“Unidentified Flying Objects.”
“I suppose that makes sense.” He scratched his cheek. “But yes, I can only speak so much about this to you. There are certain laws in place for planets like yours, little human.”
“You keep calling me that.” She stopped short and turned to look up at him. “I’m actually above average height for a human woman.”
Her lip jutted out.
Maelic’s mouth crooked into a small grin, fang peeking out. “Shall I just call you ‘human of above average height,’ then?”
He leaned forward, white hair falling loose.
She felt the childish urge to tug it. Her gaze dropped to the exposed snow-white fur at his throat.
So poofy. It reminded her of those fancy haircuts poodles got.
No, more like a lion’s mane. She couldn’t equate him with a yappy dog, but a massive, proud feline? That fit.
Little human, huh?
“Well…” Without thinking, her hand lifted. She dragged her fingers through the soft fuzz. God, it was satisfying.
“Should I just call you ‘freakishly tall mothman?’”
Keep your hands up there. Do NOT go lower, girl.
But the urge to trail further down, to explore the muscle under his sweater… it was hard to resist.
Maelic’s pointed ears darkened. His expression went tight, antennae perking straight up. “This is a very sacred part of my anatomy,” he said, voice strained with obvious bullshit. The man had no poker face.
“Your sacred anatomy is very fluffy.” She stilled her hand, brow arching. “Is this okay?”
“I…” His voice dropped low. “If you do not stop, I worry about what I will do.”
That floral scent hit her again. Thick and heady. The one that always seemed to roll off him when he was losing control. Her core clenched on nothing.
“What do you mean?”
She should pull her hand back. She knew she should. But rational thought was slipping, her focus narrowing to just him. Her thighs pressed together, hot need sparking up in her.
Maelic scented the air. He caught her hand, gentle, but his expression bordered on pain. His other hand curled into a fist at his side.
“This is not right.” His jaw worked. “I mentioned the ruts, but my species… we are not just affected by pheromones. We exude them. It can alter your mind. It seems to be doing so now.” His grip tightened on hers.
“I usually wear a mask to help with the effect. The medical device I mentioned.” He swallowed.
“I want it to be your choice completely when I ravage that pretty body again. Not because I am enticing you unfairly.”
The hesitancy in his voice reminded her of the way he’d dodged something yesterday during cocoa. And again at breakfast. That gut instinct, the one that told her he was safe, flickered with alarm.
But his body was right there. And the whole ravaging thing shut her logical brain up real quick.
She shook her head, jaw setting, and let her hand travel lower. His fingers still framed hers. He didn’t stop her.
“I’ve been eyeing you since the moment I got a good look at your face, Maelic.” Her voice dropped. “Even when you frightened me, I thought you were attractive.”
His face darkened another shade. The scent thickened. Her pussy gave a needy squeeze.
“I’m not the type of person who does something just because I’m aroused. Alien woo-woo or not.” Her hand drifted dangerously low. “We can get this out of our system. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
Maelic stiffened, expression closing off. He moved her hand off his body, squeezing gently before he released her.
“I have never had that sort of relationship with a female.” He looked away, his earlier bravado slipping at the topic of his experience. “Or anyone, for that matter.”
A prick of rejection hit her, but she shook it off. It wasn’t like he was rejecting her outright. There was more to it.
“I wasn’t trying to force your hand or anything… Last night you seemed really into it, rut or not, and I know I was—”
“That is not it. You misunderstand me.” The words came in a rush.
“I would be honored to bed you. But I have no experience in how to do so, and my biology is making that more difficult. Last night I was in a sort of… mating fever. I worry I will not be able to please you. Or worse, that I will hurt you or do something that cannot be undone.”
Her brows went up.
Wait. Did he mean he was a virgin?
“Oh, I—”
A rumble cut her off. Distant but distinct. A snowmobile.
Her brow furrowed and she looked toward the house through the thick trees.
Who could that be?
The annoyances of her life that she had miraculously ignored for the last twenty-four hours came crashing back.
“Can you stay here? I need to go see who that is, and you…” She eyed him.
Maelic’s hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. Not hard, but firm.
“You are going alone?” His eyes narrowed, scanning the direction of the noise. “I should accompany you. If they are hostile…”
“You’re a seven-foot tall Mothman in a Christmas sweater. Trust me, staying hidden is safer for both of us.”
He let out a sharp, frustrated huff of air, his wings puffing up behind him, but he released her hand.
“I will remain at the tree line,” he growled, his gaze burning into her. “But know, if you scream for help, I am coming out.”
Delaney nodded, unsure if she would really need that kind of backup.
She came out of the thick forest and spotted who was parked in front of her cabin.
Russell Grady. Owner of Winter Pines ski resort.
Her teeth gritted as he noticed her and waved. She approached with a smile that was forced and fake.
“Miss Hart! I’m glad you’re doing okay up here. I wanted to check in on you after that storm.” Russell climbed off his fancy snowmobile, dressed head to toe in expensive winter gear.
Delaney wanted to roll her eyes; she hated when Russell referred to her as Miss Hart.
“Yeah, it was a rough one. But as you can see, I’m fine. And I actually have a lot to do, so—”
“Miss Hart—no—Del.” He held up a hand. “I know you’ve seen the letters.
I know you’ve been ignoring our calls. I understand you’ve been grieving, and we’ve been patient.
” He took a breath and gave her that look.
The one people had been doing since the funeral.
“But as I’ve been trying to explain, I spoke with your grandfather.
He agreed that this tree farm… it’s not going to bounce back.
And if the situation is the same as before he passed, you only have a few months left at best.”
His voice had gone soft. Coaxing.
Delaney had grown up with Russell. She knew him. He’d always had everything handed to him, and him speaking about Grandpa agreeing to sell this place?
She saw red.
“Listen, why don’t we go inside and discuss the de—”
“Get off my land.”
Russell flinched but didn’t budge. He let out a long sigh.
“Delaney! I’ve been trying to tell you that there were things Mason and I discussed about the futu—”
“ENOUGH!” She bellowed. “Get the fuck off my land. Now.”
A growl rumbled from somewhere in the trees.
Delaney took a shuddering breath. It wouldn’t do if her alien tried to maim her uninvited guest. Or worse.
She gave a small shake of her head toward the forest. The menacing sounds dissipated.
Russell’s eyes flicked to the tree line.
“Oh man, do you think that’s a mountain lion?” He’d gone a little pale.
She did roll her eyes then.
“Maybe. I’ve seen tracks today. Why don’t we call it here.” She was too tired for this. “Let’s just… talk about this after Christmas, okay?”
Russell gave her a long look. His overly pretty face cracked with pity, and it made her want to smack the shit out of him.
“Fine. Okay.” He shook his head and climbed onto the snowmobile. “But seriously. You need to read what I’ve been sending you, Del. I’m not lying to you. You’re going to run out of time and have nothing left.”
Delaney waved her hand as he started up the machine.
“Be careful, seriously. Mountain lions are no joke and you are out here all alone.” He paused, shaking his head. “Anyway, why don’t you just come stay with us at the lodge for the holidays?”
“I am good out here.”
The blonde man sighed and shook his head, his face pinched. Well, as much as it could with all the plastic surgery he had done over the last few years.
“Alright, Del. If you insist… Try to have a Merry Christmas anyways.”
“Yeah, well. Merry fucking Christmas to you too, Rus.”