Hackles and a honeymoon, p.9
Hackles and a Honeymoon, page 9
part #1 of Cursed by Kosmos Series
"Sorry to disappoint," I said, tossing the dress and picking up the third option, "but I don't have any sentient thongs."
"Youth is truly wasted these days," she grumbled as I shimmied into the next outfit.
"How about this one?" I did a full turn, showing them the black V-neck tunic dress. Was simple, comfortable.
"That's much better!" Shelly declared.
Gram nodded after peering close at the screen. "Easy access. If he doesn't bend you over a table in that dress, then move on, missy."
I didn't even bother repeating that this was a business arrangement and no one was getting laid. It would only fall on deaf ears.
After getting approval with the shoes, I was ready to face the public at large.
Don't fuck it up, Birdie.
12
Birdie
"You look..."
A bolt of dread streaked through me when Omen gave me a head to toe, his expression unreadable as we stood across the foyer from each other.
My nervous smile dipped on one side of my mouth and I probably looked a bit nutty.
"Is it bad?" I groaned and glanced down at myself. "I can ch—"
"No!" He quickly insisted, "No, you look nice."
"Oh." I fiddled with the strap on my purse. "Well, thanks."
My eyes took in his appearance, noting that before tonight I'd never seen him in anything besides what could only be described as sports wear.
His creamy, off-white jacket had a high, stiff collar and failed at hiding just how brawny his frame was. The white, untucked shirt underneath only emphasized he wasn't a small male.
And if anyone doubted he was a noda athlete, all they had to do was look at his legs. His matching white pants showed off his thick thighs and calves. They were tucked into high-top white boots that had no seams or laces, making me wonder if there was a magnetic fold on them somewhere.
"You look nice too," I finally said after thoroughly ogling him. I couldn't help it. His features were pleasing to me. And all his shades of purple popped against the blank canvas of his clothing, making him hard to ignore.
His long tail extended behind him, lazily undulating. "Thanks."
We were complete opposites tonight. Yin and Yang.
He tipped his head as if he could peer into my mind with those brilliant violet eyes. "Are you ready for this?"
I took a deep breath to bolster myself and declared, "As ready as I'm going to be!"
Normally when I walked through the hotel lobby since my arrival, I got a few curious stares, but nothing major. Walking through the lobby beside Omen?
Totally different story.
He drew attention like the sun drew the longing, young sunflower. When his hand, warm and big, captured mine, energy crackled in the air. Conversation hummed louder as if they'd been unconvinced, until that moment, Omen was newly spoken for.
Omen was physically declaring, in this small way, he was mine and I was his.
It's not real, Birdie.
I knew that.
When he gave my hand a reassuring squeeze, I peered up at him. His smile, fang-filled and surprisingly charming, made the tension in my shoulders melt away.
"Good evening, Bainbridge," the grouchy buwore from my first night here greeted when we neared the entrance. "Your transport has arrived."
"Thank you, Runi."
Runi grunted. When he saw me, he dipped his chin, which was more than the gruffness he'd shown me before.
The night air was warm, humid, but I didn't have to endure it long. A sporty black transport waited. Its exterior almost matched the night sky, reflecting the radiance of the city. A haze of white lights shone beneath its hovering body.
The door swung open and up, revealing two cushioned seats made of a burnt orange leather that had faint scales.
Across the street, a handful of reporters hovered, holding cameras and calling out our names in hopes of getting our attention. Omen ignored them as he helped me into the transport, so I did too.
He swiped the sensor and my door closed, sealing shut. Once he entered from the opposite side, he tapped the large navigation screen on the dash. With no more prompting, the self-driving vehicle eased into a smooth ride through the streets filled with other travelers, weaving in and out of traffic and accelerating toward our destination.
His scent filled the small space. Peppery, clean, with spicy hints of ginger that filled my lungs and made me a little too eager to take my next breath.
What did that massage do to me?
"Wow," I exhaled, eyeing the lively, glowing metropolis through the windows as I tried to distract myself. "The city is so different at night."
"Wait until you see where we're going."
The skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled with his cockeyed grin. A mixture of excitement and apprehension swirled within me—that could mean anything on New Allu.
"We're not flying anywhere, I hope?"
"No." He shook his head. "Not this time."
My nape prickled. "This time? Omen, I hate flying."
"Don't worry," he said, resting his arm on the middle console separating our seats. "I've got you."
For a split second, the impending doom of whatever flying he had planned, at some unknown point, disappeared.
Before it came roaring right back.
Omen's hand gripped mine briefly, the touch distracting and sending a charge of electric warmth through my veins. "Look," he leaned closer and pointed ahead, "you'll want to see this."
Straight ahead, the road ended, the city ended, right against the oceanfront. A dark tunnel loomed and, before I could utter a sound, the transport surged forward, diving into the black tunnel.
My knee jerk reaction was to squeeze Omen's hand like it was a lifeline, as if we were about to drown in this transport. His thumb, pleasantly rough, swiped soothing circles over my knuckles.
The darkness around us, only lit up by the glow of other transports, lasted for just a few moments.
My jaw went lax, my lips parting, when the tunnel brightened and the arched walls around us went transparent, revealing we were traveling in an underwater highway now.
"Are you kidding me?" I gasped, drinking in the beauty of the deep sea world around us.
Everything glowed with bioluminescence. Schools of fish with flecks, spots or stripes zoomed about or lazily wandered. Corals and sponges the size of this transport ranged in shades of neon blues, blushing pinks, and vibrant greens jutting from clusters of craggy rocks.
Tall fronds of seagrasses swayed and glowed. Plants fanned out in every nook and cranny amongst the underwater cliffs and outcroppings.
"Are those mermaids?!" I gaped at the three humanoid figures that swam above us. Their freckled androgynous torsos faded into scaled tails with gauzy fins in a rainbow of pigment.
"Mermaids?" Omen asked curiously.
"On Earth they're mythical ocean dwelling creatures," I quickly explained. "Half human, half fish."
"I'm not surprised," he murmured, leaning forward to watch them shoot ahead, as if racing the transports. "The allied fifteen commissioned their relocation to multiple planets a few hundred solars ago to avoid their extinction. The sirenka." His lips twitched when he glanced over at me. "And they aren't half human."
"Sirenka..." I repeated, the word sounding like a specific English one. "Do they sing?"
He hummed acknowledgement. "They have beautiful songs."
My eyes lit up as I made the connection. "Earth also has legends of sirens. Sort of like mermaids, but less friendly and known for luring sailors to their watery deaths."
"Some species are sensitive to the vibrations sirenka create when they sing." He pondered. "Humans might be one of them."
A giant snake-like being with the head of a dragon swiveled through the water, stealing my attention and disappearing into the yawning mouth of a dark cave.
When we resurfaced, the landscape had slightly changed. The buildings were smaller, less skyscrapers and more cozy seaside eateries and boutiques.
Tourists milled about along the sidewalks, darting in and out of shops, but it wasn't as chaotic as where we'd traveled from.
"We're here," Omen announced as the transport pulled to a stop in front of an outdoor restaurant. "Don't be nervous. Lykree's chatty, but harmless."
"Does she know about..." I wagged a finger between the two of us, "this?"
"This?" he teased, playing dumb. "That you're my mate?"
"Fake mate," I corrected, suppressing the sultry flutter that attempted to bloom in my belly. "Underscore, bold, and italicize the word fake."
"If this is fake, does that mean I shouldn't bend you over a table when we get back to the suite?"
I accidentally inhaled my saliva and burst into a coughing fit. When Omen patted my back, I slapped his hand away and gasped for air.
"You eavesdropped again?!" I wheezed.
"I told you," he twitched both his ears, "I have good hearing."
"Can you at least pretend to not listen next time?"
His eyes glinted with amusement, but he didn't make any promises. "Why would I tell Lykree this isn't real?"
"Because she's your agent?"
"The less she knows, the better." He reached over and tucked a stray lock behind my ear, short circuiting my brain.
Why did he keep touching me? We weren't in public right now. These windows basically had limo tint.
"Isn't it a little weird you suddenly have a mate when you're angling for a contract with the Galactic Giants?" I asked, trying to ignore how my ear tingled after his graze.
"If I know Lykree, and I do, she won't care as long as it doesn't explode in our faces."
"No matches." I ticked an invisible box in the air. "Got it."
He got out, appearing at my door to offer his hand. I took it and told myself it was for moral support and not because I enjoyed it.
The valets—twins with the lower half of an octopus and the upper half of a humanoid bird—split, one taking the transport, one directing us toward the host who stood a few feet away.
Her mouth fell open. "Omen Bainbridge..."
Omen's smile came easy, making it obvious he dealt with this reaction often enough it didn't faze him at all. "That's me."
She shook her head, composed herself, and then feverishly scrolled through her tablet. "Oh, yes, you're with Lykree. Right this way!"
Wooden beams criss-crossed above us, covering the entire outside seating area. They were lined with exotic foliage and winding vines with bulbous growths that glowed, providing an intimate low light to all the tables and the bar along the back.
The place was packed. Every table taken, every stool at the bar occupied. Waitstaff danced through the space between tables as they orchestrated hovering plates and bowls filled with unique cuisine to swerve and twirl to their designated tables.
Conversations paused and resumed with excited buzz as we made our way through, following the host to a table in the back, directly beside the railing overlooking the illuminated surf.
"You made it," said a female with pale teal skin and six eyes who sat at the table.
She had four translucent wings hanging at her back, two antennae protruding from her forehead like expressive eyebrows, and segmented limbs similar to an arthropod.
"Birdie, this is Lykree," Omen made introductions as Lykree stood and made her way to me. "Lykree, this is Birdie. My mate."
"So good to finally meet you. I was beginning to think you weren't real." She laughed, the sound reminding me of rustling dry leaves, as she pressed her cheek to mine in a form of greeting.
I nervously chuckled. "I promise, I'm real."
Omen pulled out my chair and I sat. The black text of what looked to be a menu materialized on the white tablecloth in front of me.
All in alluvian glyphs, which I couldn't read.
"This place has the best erikia platter I've ever had the pleasure of devouring," Lykree gleefully expressed. "I stop here any time I'm on New Allu. It's my favorite restaurant."
"What's erikia?" I asked. "Maybe I'll try that."
Omen side-eyed me as if I'd just dared him to eat a toad. "I don't think you'll enjoy it," he ventured.
"I love trying new food." That and I couldn't read alluvian glyphs. It sounded like a good way to embarrass myself and Omen in front of his agent if I asked him to tell me what was on the menu. Instead, I went the easy route. "I'll have the erikia platter."
Lykree's wings fluttered. "Perfect!" A few taps on the table and she sent in our order.
A round of drinks were delivered, including a fruity green cocktail Omen thought I'd enjoy.
"Mmm," I moaned around the icy sweetness when it flooded my mouth. "It's delicious! What's in it?"
He took a sip of his yellow liquor that puffed cold steam, and grinned. "It's better it remain a mystery."
A slither of discomfort made me set down the cocktail. "Can I get a glass of water?" I asked the next waiter who strolled by, all with Omen's deep chuckle as a background.
"So, let's get down to business." Lykree pulled out her hal-com.
"Lykree..."
"I know, I know," she shushed Omen. "We'll go over your schedule and then talk no more about it."
Omen grunted but he didn't argue.
She went through a dizzying amount of upcoming events Omen was meant to show his face at. I zoned out and just enjoyed the salty breeze and the beautiful atmosphere.
We were interrupted a couple times by fans who dropped by the table and wanted a picture with him or an autograph.
To my surprise, Omen handled it with grace. He wasn't like some celebrities back home who were rude or refused fans who approached them in public. He smiled and engaged with them, leaning in for a photo and signing whatever they handed him. Even chit-chatted with a kid and showed him how to position his little foot for better control of the orb on the field. Which I assumed was the ball they played with.
It was... sweet.
"Ohh, there's our food!" Lykree's antennae bobbed excitedly.
The waiter directed our floating dishes through the air. The little dance the dishes performed was cute and memorable as they swirled down from the air and settled on the table.
It was at that moment I wished I'd listened to Omen because I was swiftly reminded I was on an alien planet. And not all aliens ate food that my stomach agreed with.
The dish wriggled with roaches in a gooey red sauce.
That was the only way I could describe it! Big, fat roaches. You know, like the giant ones found in Florida that made a person want to light the whole place on fire and run away screaming.
To make it worse, one lifted its wings and attempted to fly off the plate. It failed. And when it tried to skitter out of the platter, its legs kept sliding on the lifted side of the dish, unable to get traction.
"Don't worry, the buka oil coats their wings," Lykree assured me, stabbing one of her roaches with a pick and elegantly gobbling it down. "They won't escape."
My mouth watered and my teeth clenched, warning me I was about to barf. Especially after Lykree's next bite where a saucy, crunchy piece of wing got stuck in the corner of her mouth before her narrow tongue darted out and licked it up.
I shot out of my chair. "Excuse me," I weakly said, "I need to wash my hands."
****
OMEN
"Why hasn't she been to a game or at least a practice?" Lykree needled me once Birdie hurried off to the washroom.
"How do you know she hasn't?"
Her six eyes did that thing I hated where they blinked out of sync and made my hackles twitch beneath my clothing.
"I know all."
Apparently not, otherwise she would've known I'd embellished the truth about Birdie and me. I didn't mention that aloud. Instead, I took another sip of my drink and shrugged. "She doesn't like sports."
Lykree set her squirming victim down and sheathed her fangs. "What?!"
I grinned. It wasn't often Lykree's teal skin flickered, but her black spots almost fully revealed themselves with that admission.
"She doesn't like sports," I repeated.
"Not even noda?" Lykree was nearly apoplectic.
"Not even noda."
"This can't be!" She fretted. "Surely there's been a miscommunication?" She paused and took a deep breath, muttering to herself before saying, "Birdie just doesn't know she likes noda. Yet. Once she sees you on the field, she'll understand."
Lykree could be pushy, but her heart was in the right place. She'd been able to open doors for me that I would've ignored otherwise. Pushed me when I didn't know I needed it. Cheering me on in her surly way.
I slid Birdie's platter to Lykree's side of the table. "She's not going to eat that."
"Why not?" Lykree asked around a mouthful and daintily dabbed buka oil off her lips. "These are the freshest erikia you could find on New Allu."
"Most humans don't eat live creatures." I'd learned that much from their films. "Or insects."
She made a thoughtful sound and accepted the platter. "These won't go to waste, but what's Birdie going to eat?"
I tapped my extra plate piled high with sautéed vegetables, bei-tu noodles, and tender chunks of buttered crustacean.
I'd ordered two dishes for a reason. I wouldn't let Birdie go hungry.
"How sweet." Lykree's antennae straightened. "I forgot to mention, your family's hosting a charity gala. I've added it to your schedule."
My teeth nearly cracked when I clenched my jaw.
13
BIRDIE
My days blurred together. I didn't think I'd ever understand what it meant to be a trophy wife on Earth, but among aliens? It was like a never-ending existence of constant confusion.
About everything.
What to say, what not to say. Apparently in some alien cultures it was considered rude to inquire about basic stuff most humans discussed with random people they met.
Such as asking what someone did for a living or if they were here on vacation or about their family.
At the banquet last night, one extremely tight-lipped benefactor nearly raged when I asked her if she was enjoying the nice weather.
