Dashing devil omnibus 2.., p.84
Dashing Devil Omnibus 2: Books 4-6, page 84
Boyd sort of faded into a trance as Tinker talked about the many differences she had encountered when she’d started to look up cookie recipes as they walked. It wasn’t that the conversation bored him, but the way her shoulders, hips, and perky little rear swayed against his enfolding wing was mesmerizing. The inner lining was about as sensitive as the palm of a normal person’s hand, after all.
“So, what do you think?”
Tinker’s question brought Boyd up short as they approached the door to the small suite tucked into his private rooms. She looked up at him with big hazel eyes that clearly expected some sort of revelation to come out of the big demon.
Oops.
“Um…” he began. He could have given a vague answer based on what he knew about baking cookies, but decided that honesty was always the best policy. “So,” he began, “the thing is…”
He was interrupted by a cute little giggle. “Hee hee! You got distracted by my bum.” Tinker gave said work of art a little extra shake against his wing with her next step.
“You’re right, I did,” Boyd admitted. He gave her an unabashed grin as the door slid open for them. While they made their way to the kitchen, he added, “To be fair, it is a very nice bum. But I’m focused now. What was your question again?”
His little inventor’s cheeks took on a pleased rosy hue as she responded, “How do you think I should pick the best recipe? I didn’t have time to do a deep dive or even figure out what metrics to use in determining what makes the best Snickerdoodle.”
“That’s for the best.” Boyd grinned as they came to a stop and faced each other in the kitchen. Boyd’s wing remained firmly in place, but he resisted the urge to wrap the other one around her, too.
“You would have struggled on the metrics front because what is best varies from person to person,” he explained. “We are biological beings, each having tastebuds that are as different from another’s as our fingerprints.”
“Right…” Tink sighed. “Freaking biology and its randomization… people are more unpredictable than a chaotic pendulum in a room full of magnets.”
Boyd didn’t know precisely what a chaotic pendulum was, but he understood enough to chuckle at her joke.
“How do you pick recipes?”
He pursed his lips while trying to think of how to describe it best. “You can make educated guesses if you know the people you are cooking for.” Boyd shrugged a shoulder. “In this case, I would recommend a recipe that uses half butter and half shortening. Mindy likes a buttery flavor to her cookies, but not if it’s overpowering—and the shortening is probably meant to do something for the texture. Assuming people like your cookies, then it would become about trying different things to zero in on personal tastes…”
He grinned at her. “Or just sticking with what worked the next time you made them.”
“Okay…” Tinker looked thoughtful for a moment before she gave him a wry grin. “I’m overthinking this, aren’t I? That’s pretty much exactly what I do when making gadgets.”
“You are.” Boyd smiled down at her. “Though baking is a little different. This should come fairly easy for you. Ultimately, you are making something for someone you care about.”
“Well, just make sure I don’t mess anything up, okay?” Her smile turned sheepish. “I don’t want to give anyone food poisoning or anything.”
“I’ll keep my eye on you in the kitchen.” Boyd chuckled. “Just feel free to ask any questions you may have. Baking isn’t a specialty, but I’ll answer any that I can.”
With that, he regretfully retracted his wing from around her as she walked over and grabbed a tablet from the table of the eat-in kitchen. Tinker ran through three different recipes while he gathered the ingredients needed for the brownies he’d made since he was a child. It wasn’t anything special, the only little flair being the addition of milk chocolate chips for sweetness and the texture of the little gooey pockets.
“The second recipe,” Boyd called out over his shoulder, picking the one that called for a quarter teaspoon of salt when she finished. “Too many people overlook the importance of a little salt in sweet things.
He gathered everything Tinker would need along with his own ingredients and set them out on an open section of the counter. Together they set about making some baked treats for his other loves. Tinker focused in on what she was doing, following her recipe precisely. This meant there was a lull in the conversation.
It was a companionable silence broken only by the tinkling of spoons in mixing bowls.
The only thing that made Boyd’s brownies different from anyone else’s were the mistakes he’d made the first few times he prepared them. When he finally figured out what he was doing wrong and tried to correct the issue, both Silvie and Hope had pouted that they weren’t the same.
The key to his loves’ hearts lay in overmixing the batter a bit and pulling them from the oven a little too soon. They came out more like dense, fudgy cake then brownies were supposed to. But Silvie and Hope loved them. So, that had been his recipe since… well, since forever. His brownies went in to bake fairly quickly, the result of practiced ease.
Tinker, however, was taking her time to precisely measure and carefully follow each step of the recipe’s directions. It worked out well, though, because brownies took longer to bake than cookies. Throughout the process, Boyd felt alarming things over his other Bonds.
Raev was just a little uncomfortable, likely the result of a tense situation while Mindy felt self-recriminatory, blaming herself for the discomfort of the others. Silvie was a twisting heap of emotion, all over the place and hard to track. Fortunately, it didn’t seem like anything that signified a crisis.
Hope, however, was the one that called out to him.
His angel felt trapped, ganged up on, and like she would very much like to be rescued. Boyd had to remind himself that this was a conversation that needed to happen. Sometimes there had to be a little pain before healing could begin. He trusted his loves to handle it.
Instead of worrying about Hope, Boyd focused on his Bond with Tinker. He pulled her Bond wide open and let her calm sense of purpose wash over him. His little inventor knew that people she cared for were going through something emotionally trying and was making treats to soothe them when it was done. He used that sense, that he was doing something for them, to mute the troubling emotions.
Boyd focused on that little nugget of trepidation he sensed within Tinker’s emotional state as an anchor to hold himself in her otherwise good mood. Focusing on her like he was, the big demon noted a spike in her mood that seemed to be directly related to that worrisome nugget as soon as his little inventor’s cookies went in the oven.
“Okay… as long as they don’t burn, they should be pretty good. That wasn’t so bad.” Tinker nodded at her cookies through the glass front of the oven as she surveyed her treats, almost as if she was making sure one didn’t leap off the cookie sheet or something.
After a moment, she added quietly enough that he was sure he wasn’t supposed to hear, “Now for the hard part.”
Chapter 30
Boyd filled two glasses with water from the unit in the fridge and brought them over to the table. It sounded and felt like his little inventor had something she wanted to get off her chest. When he brought the glasses over to the table, he pulled out a chair for each of them. He felt her struggling to get started, teetering between bringing up whatever it was or letting it lie.
“What’s on your mind, Tink?” Boyd rumbled carefully as he took his seat and motioned for her to take hers. He sensed the relief him bringing up whatever she needed to talk about brought her and was once again thankful for his Power.
“Um…” She hopped up into her seat, something that came much easier to her now.
Boyd had chosen seats that didn’t have them facing each other to make her more comfortable, but she turned in hers to give him a tight-lipped, concerned pout before she continued. “Well, it’s about the Gala and… well, about my family. Chances are plenty of Bells will be in attendance, and if not…” She sighed. “The Blonde Buffoon will bring it up, for sure.”
“Your parents?” Boyd understood that those were typically the most important people to you in a family.
“Oh, no…” Tinker shook her head. “They aren’t nearly important enough to warrant one of the family tickets to something like this. They are way down a distant branch, which is part of the problem. My parents are pretty low status, so I don’t have any… clout would be the word for it, but… but I hate that word.”
The petite woman pressed the palms of her hands to her eyes and sighed. “Because I have no status, anyone who wants to take a shot at me can do so without fearing backlash from anyone important in the family.”
Boyd recategorized Tinker’s family into a political organization in his mind. He figured it would help him understand the situation better as soon as terms like ‘way down a distant branch’ and ‘clout’ started being used to describe familial dealings.
“But why would anyone want to take a shot at you?” he asked.
It seemed like the next most pertinent thing. So far, she had approached this as wanting to share information he needed to know so he figured it was important for him to learn and to understand. “Or, more directly, why doesn’t having a Power similar to the Aiden Bell give you all the status you could ever need?”
“It is just the opposite.” Tinker shook her head. “It’s that whole ‘no Powered in the company’ thing.”
Boyd quickly recategorized Tinker’s family to a business organization embroiled in complex politics.
“When I was really young and it just seemed like I was a particularly bright child, apparently my parent’s branch did get some perks because of my potential. But I don’t remember any of that. My dad sure does, though.”
Tinker’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t think he ever forgave me for being Powered. Apparently, I got tested when I was five because I was doing things that no five-year-old should be able to do, no matter how bright they are. I sort of remember that.” She shuddered. “I used to have nightmares about it.”
She swallowed and he reached his hand out for her to take, which she gratefully did. He gave her dainty hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
She pressed on.
“Once it was confirmed I was Powered instead of smart, the few benefits my parents’ branch had been receiving reversed. My parents and I were exiled to a little town where my dad ran a small factory making trinkets. It was clear they were being punished for… for me being Powered.”
He pushed her water closer to her when her voice cracked, sending her his love and affirmation through their Bond.
“Thank you,” she muttered before she picked it up with her free hand and took two sips to loosen her tightening throat. After setting the glass back down and taking a deep breath to settle her swirling emotions a little, she continued. “My dad hated it, and he blamed me… even if he never said so directly. He wasn’t around much, always at work, and when he was home, he mostly avoided me. But it showed when he did have to be around me.”
“Family functions were the worst…” Her voice trailed off and she sighed again, running a finger along the rim of the glass and staring past him with a far-off look. “It was always clear I wasn’t welcome, but my presence was expected. And even though he ignored me the rest of the time, dad wouldn’t let me skip family events. The other kids there hated me. Well, Granny explained later that I was just a safe target to take their issues out on—but, it sure felt like they hated me.”
Boyd frowned, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb.
“And since I couldn’t hide in my room,” Tinker continued, “I just ended up being a target. ‘Make cousin Emilia cry’ became a favorite game at family gatherings.”
“I’m sorry, Tink.” Boyd kept his tone soft and sincere as she took another sip to settle her rising emotions.
The big demon found his little inventor’s story surprisingly relatable. It sounded like she had faced a lot of the same pointless negativity that he had as a demon featured Changed in the PAC. Only for her, it had started even earlier—and she’d had no foundation of training with a large focus on overcoming adversity to help her get through it.
“It wasn’t all bad.” She smiled weakly. “My mom loved me to pieces. She couldn’t stop what was happening, but she did what she could to help me feel better. Lots of hugs and comfort. Mom made the best soup and was always happy to keep me company. She loved watching me work on stuff.”
“She would get me anything I asked for and encouraged me to make whatever I thought up. The number of little gadgets she bought for me, only to watch me take them apart…” Tinker smiled. “I’d deconstruct a kitchen appliance into pieces, and then use the pieces to make some little dog gizmo or something. She’s the one that gave me my name. Her little tinkerer, or Tinker for short. But then she…”
A tide of sorrow welled up within her, breaking free as her words dissolved into a sob.
Boyd moved on instinct, tail and arms reaching out for her and pulling Tink into his lap. She clung to his chest, her fingers pressing into his upper back while her arms wrapped around him as one sob became another. He felt how important it was that she get this out now that she’d started, so he didn’t hush her when she continued her story through her sobs.
“I was ten when… herk… when my dad got fed up with his crappy job. He got involved in family politics… herk… Tried to earn a better job by… hep… by betraying one of my uncles in a deal. That uncle found out and… hep hep… and he had my mom killed.”
Boyd wrapped both wings tight around his Tink, hugging her with everything he could as wet tears start to dribble down his chest.
Still, she pressed on, desperate to get the words out. “Dad might not have loved me, but he loved Mom. He absolutely doted on her… herk… Cherished her. Losing her broke him and he… he got worse… hep… But thankfully he sent me away after that, so I saw… hep… him even less.”
She took a deep, shuddering breath. “I l-lived on one of the family p-properties with some staff from then on, which wasn’t s-so bad. But family f-functions got even w-worse without m-mom.”
With one final restrained sob, the gates broke and she cried openly and honestly. Tinker shook against him with the force of her sorrow as she clung to him. Boyd clung right back, nuzzling her head the way she loved and filling their Bond with his love and adoration.
Boyd wanted to ensure she knew that she wasn’t alone anymore, that he would build a real family around her and with her. One that would give her the support and affection she deserved. While he didn’t say a word, he sensed that she understood.
Eventually, he sensed the need to continue rise within her as she fought to control the tears. He relaxed his all-encompassing hug to reveal her tear-stained face. Once Tinker had her breathing under control, she pressed on.
“That first year was the hardest, but Granny found me when I was eleven. She stepped in for mom a bit, but it was never the same. I love Granny, but she was programed to love and nurture me. She… She doesn’t really have a ch-choice. It’s synthetic.”
Boyd almost refuted this point, as Granny was a sentient AI. The whole reason sentient AIs were strictly controlled was because they tended to modify their own code to remove pesky things like emotional controls. He held himself back, though, because he sensed a warmth building within his little inventor amidst the cold sorrow that had filled her.
And he didn’t want to interfere with it.
“I honestly thought that through my teens.” Boyd heard the fragile smile in Tink’s tremulous voice. “And until I met you, I thought that her love for me had been programed into her to make me more likely to interact with her. I thought that no one could possibly love me unless they had to.”
Boyd frowned, but held his tongue. He did squeeze her a little tighter.
“Boy did you prove me wrong. Granny more or less forced me to apply when I was offered the chance. I never thought Silvie would pick me, and she didn’t… not really. You did. You just walked into my room, saw I was upset and was nice to me because… well, you just were. Then I cried…”
A slow blush spread across those tear-stained cheeks.
“I really didn’t want to cry in front of you. But then you hugged me when you didn’t have to. You could have just walked away. But you hugged me and held me while I cried. No one made you.”
Boyd smiled as she tried to pull herself even tighter against him.
“And I got to watch you fall in love with me, even though you tried not to. At first, you fought so hard, but you still fell in love with me anyway. You wanted me to be part of your family. You made sure to include me, even as you fought developing feelings for me. Then… you stopped fighting it, and started pursuing me… and wow, can you ever make a girl feel special.”
She gave a little giggle as she let go of his shoulders to begin wiping at her eyes and nose with the sleeve of her romper before leaning back and staring up at him with big, bleary hazel eyes, a gentle smile curling her lips.
“Thank you. Because of that, I was able to accept that I am loveable, and that Granny really did love me all along—programming or not.”
“You really don’t have to thank me for loving you.” Boyd smiled, reaching up to carefully wipe away one last tear with his thumb. “Loving you is easy and I’m the one who’s thankful—thankful that you came into my life; thankful that you are part of this family; thankful for all that you do for us; for the thought you put into the equipment you make us.”
Tinker smiled up at him and giggled as she shook her head. “I’m not going to bother fighting you on who should be more thankful. You’re far too stubborn for me to win. Instead, I’ll just say I love you more than you could ever know, with or without the Bond.” She reached up and placed her small hands on his cheeks, staring into his eyes.
“I love you t…” his response was cut off as Tinker leaned up to push her soft lips to his.
