Pulled By The Tail

Georgia:

Sunshine, I regret to inform you I have a scheduling conflict and cannot attend your meeting this afternoon.

-Kevin “Benign,” the doctor said.

Georgia sighed with relief; she had never heard such a sweet, perfect word before in her life. Benign. Thank God. For the last week, she’d been living on tenterhooks, unable to sleep due to worry and unable to concentrate on anything beyond “what if.”

What if the polyps were cancerous?

What if she had cervical cancer like her mom?

What if they didn’t catch it in time?

“So, what’s next?”

The doctor leaned back in her chair. “I’d like to start you on a course of progesterone. That should get your hormone levels balanced. The regime will be two weeks on, two weeks off. The hormone won’t affect your ability to have children,” the doctor said in a warm, reassuring tone.

“Okay,” Georgia said, unsure of her ability to remember to take a pill every day for two weeks, then skip the pills for another two weeks. She’d have to get a pillbox.

That’s how the whole mess started. Georgia’s cycle had never been predictable but at least it was light and pain-free. Until it wasn’t. Slowly, so slowly she hadn’t noticed, her cycles grew more troublesome and erratic until she reached the point where she couldn’t leave the house due to heavy bleeding for weeks. Not days. Weeks. Clearly, something had been wrong and silly Georgia didn’t realize until she was in the thick of it.

Fortunately, her best friend, Freema, a med school student, found her a good doctor who listened to her symptoms. With her family history of cervical cancer in mind, they promptly eliminated possibilities. After blood tests, thyroid tests, and an ultrasound, what remained was cancer and the suspicious little polyps inside her uterus.

“…but you might want to consider any children sooner rather than later.”

The doctor’s words snapped her back from her daydreaming. “But I’m only twenty-eight.”

Only twenty-eight and already her body had betrayed her. This time the polyps were benign. What if next time it was cervical cancer? She could lose her uterus and even her life. Georgia had vague memories of her mother going in for a partial hysterectomy when Georgia was young. Mainly she remembered sitting in the hospital cafeteria with her elderly neighbor, eating ice cream and crying because she was so scared. The neighbor’s solution to everything unpleasant was ice cream, a bad habit she picked up and explained the extra pounds she carried on her hips.

“So, you’re saying I should have a baby now while I’m still able?”

“I’m saying with your family history of cancer, you should consider your options.”

While she still had options.

“I see no reason, medically, why you cannot conceive now, but if you decide to wait, you could consider freezing your eggs and other treatment options.”

Expensive options, the doctor meant.

“And don’t overlook adoption. That love is just as real as a child that grows in your belly.”

“Yeah, I mean, of course.” She liked the idea of adopting or fostering. Having gone into the foster system after her mother’s death, she knew the pain of being an unwanted, unadoptable child. If she could give a kid a home, she would, gladly. “It’s just a bit sudden. I don’t have to make any decisions today?”

She just found out she didn’t have cancer—thank God—and she was unprepared to figure out how to afford a baby or foster a kid. She needed to be married first. That was the plan.

“Of course not. Let’s see how you respond to hormone therapy.”

With a prescription in hand, Georgia made her way to the pharmacy and then to the apartment she shared with her boyfriend, Kevin.

Things with Kevin were fine. Not amazing, but not bad, just fine. That was good, right? A stable relationship with no surprises. Sure, it was boring, but boring was good. After an unstable childhood—not to speak ill of her mom, who did the best she could—paying the rent on time, holding down a nine-to-five job, and never having to worry about the utilities being shut off was wonderful.

Boring was just another word for stable and stability was fantastic. No one embodied stability more than her Kevin.

But were they ready for children? They lived together, sure, and hadn’t encountered any major problems, but a baby? Agreeing on what pizza to order or what show to watch in the evening wasn’t the same thing as raising a child.

She had some time. Not years, like she originally envisioned in her master life plan, but she didn’t have to jump on Kevin’s dick and get knocked up today.

Yes, Georgia had a master life plan. Her first draft had been written in glitter gel ink when she was twelve and determined not to end up like her parents. She’d been updating it ever since. Graduate high school, done. Don’t get pregnant as a teenager, like her mom. Georgia didn’t even date in high school, avoiding the temptation of sex and opportunities for surprise pregnancies. College, done. She traveled out of the country, got a small tattoo on her shoulder, and even had an anonymous one-night stand, all according to the plan. Moving in with her boyfriend right out of college was on schedule. Maybe she should accelerate the schedule and bump up married at thirty to twenty-eight?

Having a list of her goals kept her on track. The big picture vanished too easily in the day-to-day. Like now. Having a baby before thirty wasn’t in the plan but what if the plan was wrong? What if she waited and then couldn’t have a baby?

She needed to think this over, preferably with a big slice of chocolate cake.

Her phone buzzed with an incoming message. Well? Don’t leave a girl hanging.

She smiled and typed a quick reply to her friend, Freema. No cancer!

Thank you, sweet Jesus! Celebratory drinks? Strawberry and margarita emojis followed. Freema loved her boozy strawberry drinks.

I’m exhausted. I didn’t sleep, she replied.

Take a nap. Let me know if you change your mind, Freema wrote.

Georgia wouldn’t change her mind. She wanted to curl up on the sofa and watch something mindless with people decorating cakes poorly. That sounded amazing.

“Sweetie, I’m home,” she announced, tossing her keys on the table next to the front door. Immediately she noticed the extra set of car keys, which were not hers or Kevin’s. “Do we have company?”

No one replied but she heard music from deeper in the apartment. Georgia followed the noise, opening the bedroom door to find Kevin balls-deep in the new intern.

Boring, predictable Kevin was fucking the intern. How cliché. How uninspired. Georgia had to laugh. Kevin’s pale, hairy butt was laughable, too.

The intern finally noticed Georgia standing in the door and screamed.

“The intern? Really, Kevin? Is she even legal?” Georgia knew the young woman’s age to be at least eighteen, probably closer to twenty, but still.

“What are you doing home?!” Kevin jumped away from the woman like distance could erase what Georgia saw. “You’re supposed to be at the office until five.”

The intern grabbed her clothes from the floor and rushed by Georgia.

“I had a doctor’s appointment, which I told you about this morning. Oh, and it’s not cancer. Thanks for asking.”

“There you go again, always sniping at me.”

“Don’t turn this around on me. You were fucking the intern!”

Kevin ignored what she said. “So, you’re fine now?” He stood with his hands on his hips, his dick flagging, way too confident for a guy with a scrawny, pale, hairy ass.

“Fuck, you’re not even wearing a condom,” she said. So gross. Thank God she had insisted on protection with him. Still, she added getting a check-up at the clinic to her list. Getting a funky sex infection was not part of the master plan, but here she was, staring at the unimpressive, unprotected dick of her asshole boyfriend, not knowing where he put that thing.

She did know he wouldn’t be putting it in her again. Ever.

“But you’re fine?” he asked, and Georgia got the distinct impression he wasn’t concerned about her health.

“Yeah, no cancer.”

He flashed a confident smile that made her skin crawl. “She didn’t mean anything, baby. I just needed a backup plan if you were sick. I didn’t want to get stuck, you know?”

If she was sick… His words turned her stomach. “So, you’d trade me in? Ditch me when I needed you?”

Exactly what happened to her mom. She grew sick and her dad vanished. Her parents had a rocky relationship to start with, on-again and off-again, but her dad always came back. Eventually. Usually broke and needing a place to crash, but he came back. Until her mom had cancer, and he disappeared for good.

Fuck. Despite her carefully monitored plan, she ended up with the same type of man as her father. Fuck a duck.

“How many?” she asked.

“Just the one. Just Janice.”

“So, this is the first time?” Not that it made it better, but she was trying to wrap her head around when boring, reliable Kevin found time to screw the intern.

“Well, not the first time, but she’s the only one.”

“How long?”

“It doesn’t matter, baby.” He flashed his charming smile, but Georgia saw it for the superficial facade it was.

“How long?!”

“Since October.”

Since she got sick and went in for testing. That creep. He tossed her aside the moment her body failed to meet his standards of perfection.

“Get out,” she said.

“You’re not upset, are you? Where’s my Georgia sunshine?” He cupped her face. The pet name used to make her heart flutter, now it made her nauseous.

Georgia stepped back. “I said get out, Kevin.”

He huffed, like he wanted to argue, but pulled on his jeans. The whole situation was so strange. They never argued and until a few minutes ago, she would have sworn that Kevin would have never cheated. He was too boring.

“I’m leaving, but just to check on Janice. You’re not kicking me out,” he said.

“Yes, I am. Don’t bother coming back.”

“My name’s on the lease.”

“I’ll get the locks changed,” she said. Immediately.

“I’ll get the landlord to let me back in,” he retorted.

“Don’t you have a backup apartment with Janice, since you’re so worried about being stuck?”

Kevin drew himself up to full height, a move that might have been impressive with his average build and narrow shoulders if he had scruples or even the smallest bit of dignity. “I paid for the deposit on this place. It’s mine. If you can’t see your way around this one little indiscretion, I really think you should leave.”

“Fine.”

“Fine,” he said in a mocking tone. His smirk said that he expected to find her on the sofa, waiting for him, when he got back. He slipped on his shoes, grabbed his keys, and stood at the door. “Don’t eat all the ice cream while I’m gone. You’ve really let yourself go, Georgia.”

“You did not just call me fat,” she said as the door swung shut. She stood there in disbelief. “He called me fat.”

He fucked the intern, blamed her, made a jab about her weight as he left to chase his mistress, and expected to find her waiting for him when he got back. No doubt on the sofa, eating directly out of the ice cream tub, because that’s what chubby chicks did.

Georgia looked around the apartment. When Kevin said he wanted to move in together, she’d been thrilled. He purchased most of the furniture and furnishings, but that made sense. He made more money than her and could afford to upgrade to the leather sofa and the side tables with the marble inlay. Everything had been arranged just so and kept pristine with zero clutter. Kevin didn’t like clutter. They decorated with a trendy gray and white color scheme. Excuse her, French gray and origami white. It was bland. Safe.

Boring.

Fuck boring and especially fuck Kevin.

Part of her wanted to take a knife and ruin the fine-grain leather on the sofa, to destroy Kevin’s favorite lounger, but she didn’t have it in her. She wasn’t a vandal. Knowing Kevin, he’d send her a bill.

Okay, she ruled out property damage. Revenge would have to be less physical and more intangible.

Like frozen fish fillets in the heating vents. Concerned with his heart and omega-three fatty acids, they stocked the freezer with a variety of fish. She didn’t particularly enjoy fish but she choked it down because that’s what a good girlfriend did, right?

She refused to be Kevin’s good girlfriend anymore.

Georgia grabbed a bag and stuffed it with the first things she grabbed from the closet. She’d crash with Freema for a few days until she could find a place of her own. She had money. She had a job, even if it was a job in Kevin’s office as his subordinate.

Yeah, she’d need to find a new job, too.

She dumped her toiletries into the bag and couldn’t think of another reason to stay. She’d be back in a few days with Freema to fetch the rest of her stuff, unless Kevin changed the locks, and then she’d put the fish in the heating vents.

* * *

“We’re out of strawberries, so it’s just a plain daiquiri.” Freema set two tall glasses down on the coffee table.

“Lame. I was promised strawberry daiquiris.” That wouldn’t stop Georgia from drinking her plain daiquiri, though.

“We drank all the rum, too, so I used the whiskey,” Freema said.

“That’s not a daiquiri.” She didn’t think it was anything. She took a cautious sip. Tart and sweet, it burned down her throat. Georgia sputtered but swallowed the awful concoction. “This is terrible. You ruined really good whiskey.”

“No one likes whiskey and we’re too drunk to go to the store or a bar. They won’t serve us.” Freema leaned against Georgia, holding the vile drink like it might explode. The glass tilted to its side. Spilling was a real possibility.

Georgia grabbed the glass and set it back down on the coffee table. “We’re not that drunk.” Probably. She’d been crashing on Freema’s couch for a week, too down in the dumps to do much of anything. She quit her job, so she did that. She showered, but only because Freema sprayed her with air freshener. Subtle, her friend was not.

That morning, they went to Kevin’s apartment and cleared out the rest of her stuff. She half expected to find her books, clothes, and favorite coffee mugs already packed in boxes and Janice moved in. Instead, nothing had changed, like Kevin expected her to come crawling back. After packing up her meager possessions, they stole Kevin’s expensive bottles of whiskey and rum.

All things considered, Georgia was proud of how maturely she handled the situation. She didn’t destroy Kevin’s property or dump dog poo on the carpet and start up the floor cleaning bot to smear the poo everywhere. She considered it but didn’t do it. See? Mature. She only took two little bottles of alcohol. He owed her.

Just before she left the apartment for the final time, she set all the televisions to Spanish and hid all the remotes. She wasn’t that mature.

To celebrate, Georgia and Freema were determined to get falling-down drunk, watch bad movies, and eat pizza and junk food until they were sick. Or fell asleep. Whatever happened first.

“We’re going to be so sick tomorrow,” Georgia said. Her tolerance for alcohol had seriously diminished. In college, she could stay up all night, drink, eat junk, get only two hours of sleep, and be fresh as a daisy. Now? One beer was her usual limit. Anything more and she had a headache for days. She was so not looking forward to the morning.

She stuffed a handful of chips in her mouth, to soak up the booze.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Pizza’s here!” Freema jumped off the couch and raced to the door, sliding across the floor in her socks. “Um, Georgia. It’s for you.”

Kevin stood in the doorway, wearing a wool coat more expensive than her monthly salary, and looking around Freema’s small apartment with a judgmental frown.

“What do you want?” Georgia crossed her arms over her chest, aware that she was braless—girl’s night in, after all—and a cold breeze came in through the door. She didn’t want Kevin to think her nipples got hard just because he showed up. It was cold, dammit.

“This is where you’ve been hiding?”

“I’m not hiding,” she replied before she could think better of letting Kevin direct the flow of conversation. That’s what he did: steered her down a path until she agreed with everything he said, even if she disagreed. All their past arguments fell into that pattern. It had to stop. “What are you doing here?”

He reached into the inside pocket of his coat and withdrew an envelope. “I thought I’d drop off your last paycheck,” he said, voice cold. Georgia reached for the envelope, but he drew it back. “By the way, starting a rumor about Janice in the office was highly unprofessional.”

“It’s not a rumor if it’s true.” She shrugged. See, she could be cold and unfeeling too. “The director wanted to know why I was leaving. I didn’t mince words.” She had been fairly blunt stating that she no longer felt comfortable working with her ex-boyfriend while he was fucking the intern.

“I’ll have to mention it if anyone calls for a reference,” Kevin said.

Georgia narrowed her eyes, not sure what game Kevin played. Did he want an apology? A blowjob for a good reference?

“No, I don’t want a blowjob,” he said.

Shit. She must be drunker than she thought.

“I’ve had enough of your unenthusiastic blowjobs to last a lifetime.”

“Well, it’s hard to get excited about sucking your dick when you fall asleep.”

“Sunshine, I don’t know how you expect me to be excited when you look like that.” His gaze swept her from head to toe and from the sour look, he found her lacking.

Georgia blushed. She knew she wasn’t a supermodel, but he had to have found her somewhat attractive. They hadn’t had sex in months, even before the breakup, but she had been ill. Between the near-constant bleeding, the fatigue, and the stomach cramps, she hadn’t felt sexy in a long time.

“Oh shit. That happened? Sorry! I’m not listening,” Freema said, slamming two pillows on either side of her head.

Yeah, that happened. She had his pecker in her mouth, giving it her all, and he fell asleep. He wasn’t drunk or anything; he just wasn’t interested.

Georgia saw the entirety of their relationship. She had predictable sex with her boring boyfriend. They had a boring, predictable life where the most exciting thing was a new bagel place opening on the corner. That life was as gray and bland as the color scheme in their apartment. She deserved better. They both did.

Kevin actually did them a favor. Huh.

“Have you been to the apartment yet?” Georgia tried to ask casually and not darting her eyes side to side like a guilty person. Freema coughed dramatically. Yeah, not such a smart question.

“Why?”

“No reason. I got my stuff and left my key.” True enough and not a complete lie.

A figure appeared behind Kevin, holding two pizza boxes.

“Look, we’re in the middle of stuff here. I appreciate you dropping off my last paycheck.” Georgia snagged the envelope while the pizza guy distracted Kevin, then signed for the delivery. “Thanks! Have a good life,” she sang in a far-too-chipper voice, slamming the door shut.

Abruptly, she opened the door again on Kevin, who had not moved. She shouted, “Florida is the sunshine state. Georgia is peaches!” Another slam, this one final. She’d never see Kevin again, God willing. “Fucker,” she muttered.

“He’s the worst,” Freema said, opening the box and helping herself to a slice of barbequed chicken. “We totally need to find you a rebound guy.”

“I don’t want a rebound guy.” She wanted pizza and maybe more whiskey. Her needs were simple.

“You do. Everyone does. It’s like dating law.”

“Oh, well if everyone does it,” she said, adding extra sarcasm to her voice. The sarcasm must not have been obvious because Freema jumped up from the sofa and raced to her tablet computer.

“Let’s sign you up for a dating app,” Freema said.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Pfft. It’s the best idea we’ve ever had. Oh, Celestial Mates. Find your perfect match. Look at the hot guy.” Freema shoved the screen in Georgia’s face. The blue-skinned Fremmian model had no shirt, appeared to be covered in glistening baby oil, and flexed his biceps for the camera.

“Um, he’s blue. Is this an alien hookup app?”

“Don’t be narrow-minded. Blue guys need loving, too. Besides, that’s just the sugar to lure you in. The profiles are totally average.”

Georgia grabbed the tablet and scrolled through the sample profiles. “They’re all aliens. This is an alien hookup app.”

Freema snatched the device back. “Don’t be such a xenophobe. Have you ever dated an alien guy?”

“I’m not a xenophobe,” she protested. She hadn’t dated anyone of extraterrestrial origins but not because she wouldn’t; she just hadn’t been asked out. “You know Kevin was my only boyfriend.”

Freema stuck her tongue out and made a completely mature retching noise. “Such a waste. We have to get you out there and getting some. How about this guy?” turning the tablet to face Georgia, a golden-skinned male with four arms filled the screen.

“A Gyer? I don’t know.”

“What’s wrong with a Gyer? They’re hot. All those hands. Yum.”

“They’re not, you know, binary.” The Gyer did not have distinct male or female genders. They were equally capable of becoming pregnant and also impregnating a partner. Maybe. The details were fuzzy.

Georgia really should have paid attention in her Comparative Biology course in college, otherwise known as Alien Banging 101. The class in a nutshell: humans like to fuck, have fucked every alien they’ve encountered, and can have babies with most of those aliens. Basically, humans were slutty when it came to aliens.

“Do you think they’re, umm, compatible?” Georgia asked.

A grin tugged at Freema’s painted fuchsia lips. “God, I really want to find out. I can think of lots of things to do with four hands.”

“Gross!”

“For hugging.” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Pervert. Okay, profile picture. I got this old one from last summer when we went to the beach.”

“Not the bikini.” The floral two-piece looked so pretty in the store and Georgia thought it flattered her curves, but Kevin didn’t like her showing so much skin. She spent the day covered up with a towel rather than enjoying the sun.

Freema never had those worries, being thinner than Georgia and infinitely cooler. She wore her blonde hair in twin buns, streaked in pastel-colored hair wax, and her friend totally pulled it off. Georgia? She had a hard enough time finding jeans that fit her hips without leaving a gap at the waist. She’d never tried trendy hairstyles, electing to play it safe with the same old haircut.

“Yes, the bikini. You looked super cute with those highlights,” Freema said.

Georgia absently touched the end of her hair. The golden blonde highlights had grown out long ago and hovered at the bottom of her mid-length chestnut hair. “You think I should get highlights again?”

“Yes. It’s not even a question.” Freema continued to fill in personal data in the app. “Tomorrow, let’s have a girl’s day and spoil ourselves. Facials. Manicures. Massages. The works.”

“Sounds brilliant.” She took a slice of barbeque chicken. As she chewed, she grew curious as to what Freema was writing on her behalf. “What does it want to know now?”

“No peeking! It’s a surprise.”

“But you’re talking about me.” She reached for the tablet with greasy fingers.

“Nope.” Freema sprang from the sofa, clutching the tablet. “We’re going to find you a perfectly disreputable bad boy and you’re going to bang your brains out. Doctor’s orders.”

“With tattoos?”

“At least three.”

She’d never dated a bad boy before. That wasn’t part of the plan, but the plan failed her. Going off-script terrified her but thrilled her to her core. “Let’s do it.”

Talen:

Mr. T. Achaval, Your presence is requested on the 30th level, in the private gaming rooms. We wish to discuss your brother. Please visit the concierge at your earliest convenience.

-Noxu Station Management Team “You what?!”

“It’s a sure thing,” Quil said, tail curiously still.

Talen stared down at his elder brother. Quil’s tells were so obvious. How did everyone at the card table not know Quil lied? His body practically screamed that he played a poor hand and winning was far from guaranteed.

Take care of your brother, his mother commanded the last time he saw her. Never mind that Quil was the elder and by all rights, he should be caring for Talen, not the other way around, but their mother had been a practical female and didn’t expect miracles.

It had been twenty years since an assassin took Talen’s parents from him, but he tried his best to abide by his mother’s words. Talen tried to take care of Quil, but his older brother made it so hard.

“We only have each other in this universe,” Quil said, resting a hand on Talen’s forearm. Invoking the words of their nursemaid—the female who smuggled the young males off Talmar and raised them as her own—was a dirty trick.

“The ship is our home,” Talen said. His ears pressed flat against his head and his tail twitched in agitation. His claws itched just below the surface at his fingertips. “You’re gambling our home.”

“And Lerrence is gambling his family’s ancestral estate.” Quil’s greedy eyes flash as he took a sip of his drink. The dark amber liquor complimented his pale amber complexion. “Besides, the collateral had been certified by the casino already. It’s too late.”

With a growl, Talen knocked the glass from his irresponsible brother’s clutches. He knew how he appeared, a large brute about to lose what little control he had.

The liquor splashed a Corravian male seated at the table. “I say! Watch yourself.”

“Forgive my brother. He’s in a mood,” Quil said, laying on the charm thick and easy.

“I’m not in a mood. I’m furious.” Quil rolled his eyes, which only ratcheted up Talen’s fury. “The ship is our transportation, our livelihood, and our home. How could you be so reckless?”

“That rusted old beast?” The seated Corravian male snorted. “I’ll be paying the junkers to haul it away.”

“You’re Lerrence, then?” Talen knew the male’s identity. They had played cards before, in another gambling hall. Of course, Quil had lost spectacular sums of money to the male, no doubt boosting the male’s confidence about a win.

“And that estate is nothing but a money pit. I’m doing you a favor taking it off your hands,” Quil said, taking his seat at the table.

“Yes, and your ship is bringing down the property value of the entire station. I’m surprised you can even afford the docking fees,” Lerrence retorted, his tone practically dripping with money and privilege.

“I don’t like this,” Talen growled. His fingers flexed, claws extending and retracting. The crowd of spectators around the table took a collective step back.

“As the gentleman said, it’s too late now. The bet is placed and the collateral certified. The only way to finish this is to win,” Lerrence spoke with the confident tones of a male used to winning. Of course he was. He lived in the luxurious sky palaces above Corra, where the ultra-rich fled when ecological disaster struck their homeworld. They lived the literal high life in orbiting stations, indulging in every available vice while the less monied struggled on the surface.

Not that life on Corra proved to be a hardship. Talen had grown fond of the planet on the far edge of the galaxy. It was free from many of those pesky Interstellar Union rules and regulations, and the provinces had contained the mornclaw problem. Well, the civilized regions were secure from the monstrous creatures that wrecked the Corra ecosystem and slaughtered nearly half the planet’s population. He was sure the money pit Quil gambled everything for was far from civilization and infested.

Judging by Lerrence’s smug expression, of course it was. They really would be doing him a favor if they won the property.

“I need a drink,” Talen growled, snagging a glass from a passing tray.

Lerrence rolled his eyes at the uncouth behavior and then picked up his cards. Those very same cards would determine whether Talen rested his head in his familiar bunk that night or hustled to find a new berth. He had little but he had his own ship and a trade. He’d rather be in his bunk, reading, than scowling over Quil’s shoulder.

Lerrence motioned to the dealer for another card and examined it with an impassive expression. Quil, however, practically shouted his distress with his flattened ears and twitching tail.

“You bet everything on a bad hand,” Talen muttered. He didn’t have to see the cards to know the truth.

“Not now, dear brother. I’m working,” Quil hissed.

“You’re losing.” His frustration grew. With his jaw clench, he was surprised the entire room couldn’t hear him grind his teeth.

Quil ignored his obvious agitation and motioned to the dealer.

“I won’t let you ruin us,” Talen said, grabbing Quil by the ear and yanking him to his feet. “We’re leaving. Now!”

Large Tal males in expensive suits moved to block the door. If they had any loyalty to the planet of their shared origin, they gave no sign of it.

“No one leaves until we finish our game,” Lerrence said.

Talen curled back his top lip in a hiss. He sized up the guards, believing he could take one, perhaps two. Larger than the males and with military training, he had an advantage, but if Lerrence alerted the station, soon every available pair of fists on the payroll would be involved, and that was a fight Talen could not win.

So he resorted to verbal fighting. “Typical. Rich Corravian sources his protection off-world. How much does he pay you to pretend you’re not disgusted with him?” They gave no indication of hearing him, let alone of being affected by his barbed comments. He turned his ire to Lerrence. “And you! Fleecing my brother. You know he’s terrible and you know our pockets are empty. How dare you accept such a bet? Is your pampered life so empty that you have to torture a stupid male for entertainment?”

“Stupid? Hey now,” Quil said, taking offense.

Tough. Talen called his brother a lot worse.

Talen turned to Lerrence, knocking his tumbler of no doubt expensive alcohol into the male’s lap. He jumped to his feet and a casino employee appeared out of nowhere with a towel. “Watch yourself! You damn hot-headed fool.”

“And what happens when you take our home? You plan to make us beg? Grovel for your amusement?”

“You Tal are all alike,” Lerrence sneered. “Happy to spend money like there’s no tomorrow, full of growls and threats when it’s time to pay the bill. Your kind is good for nothing but being hired muscle, and even then, I wouldn’t put it past you to steal the silverware. Everyone knows the Tal are nothing but thieves.”

Talen tossed a scandalized look to the two Tal males at the door. “You let him talk about your people like that?” A shifting of weight from foot to foot was the only indication of unease. “So, it’s like that then,” Talen said, disappointed that negative Tal stereotypes thrived in the modern world.

“You bore me,” Lerrence said. With a flick of a finger, the nearest guard grabbed Talen and shoved him out the door.

“You think you’re better than me! Because you have money and pedigree.” Over the guard’s shoulder, his brother gave a mournful shake of his head. Before he could continue his rant, the door slammed in his face.

Finally.

Talen ran a hand through his hair, unconcerned about making a mess of it. His hair refused to cooperate, always appeared tousled. He had started to wonder what he had to say or do to get thrown out of the private room. Smash furniture, perhaps. Marks like Lerrence usually had a pricklier disposition. The first insult, and they tossed Talen out on his tail. That was one advantage of size: no one wanted to see him angry.

He sauntered up to the nearest bar and ordered water. The next bit required a clear head.

He didn’t know what Quil saw in Lerrence’s parcel of Corra, but his brother wouldn’t let an opportunity pass him by. They had encountered Lerrence before and knew enough about the male to know he played a decent hand but had a cocky attitude. Talen played a solid if unremarkable hand and won consistently enough to barely notice. That was the second advantage of size: no one ever suspected Talen of being more than dumb muscle.

Quil, however, was all flash. He lost in spectacular fashion, always paid his debt, and got invited to the exclusive tables. Once the marks—and to be honest, Quil always knew who could afford to lose the most—were well and truly comfortable, all but ignoring the poor sucker losing a fortune while gloating and congratulating themselves, Quil would place an impossible wager.

Why not take the fool’s money? Or his ship? Or anything else he owns in the universe?

Quil won. He always won. Talen played the furious brother, upset at the gambling losses, and used his bulk to create a distraction. With attention diverted elsewhere, Quil cheated.

No one should be surprised, least of all the people at the table with Quil. They were all cheats. Stations like this one, Noxu, were tax dodges for the ultra-rich, so that was the first cheat there. The same tax-evading ultra-rich snobs avoided rebuilding their homeworld, instead chasing pleasures in a floating palace. Their lifestyles cost a fortune and only the smallest percentage ever funneled back to planetside. Moreover, Corra could not afford to police Noxu, instead relying on private security to keep the peace.

Stations like Noxu were fiefdoms, ruled by kings and aristocrats. There was no justice for the everyday person. Crimes committed by the wealthy were swept away but crimes against them—mostly theft—were pursued to the point of obsession. Stories of a maid caught with stolen jewels or a footman caught in bed with an heiress filled the news cycle.

Talen did not worry about Lerrence crying to the media once he realized he’d been conned. The brothers counted on embarrassment to keep him silent. Lerrence would be more likely to sic his private security on them. Talen’s biggest worry was making it to the ship and warming up the engines for a quick exit.

He had a book, a murder mystery, waiting in his bunk. The story just got to the good part and he had his suspicions as to the identity of the murderer. The family had secrets and secrets always clawed their way out of darkness into the light.

He felt a heavy blow connect with his shoulder before that person hooked their arm into his elbow and took off at a run.

“What are you still doing here?” Quil’s eyes had a manic gleam to them.

Talen didn’t ask if there was trouble. The brothers wouldn’t be running for any other reason. They dashed through the crowd, nimbly avoiding security by ducking behind a row of slot machines. The bright lights and constant noise provided enough cover for Talen to weave his way across the casino floor and reach the exit.

The concourse left them too open. Talen ducked into a service corridor that ran behind the shops and would bring them nearly to their ship.

“I never thought I’d be glad you memorized the station’s layout,” Quil said.

“Always have an exit strategy.” Talen knew his elder brother often acted first and worried about the consequences after, which was why he took it upon himself to over-prepare.

The ship’s engines were already online when the brothers arrived. A four-armed copper-skinned male moved from the pilot’s seat.

“You moved my settings,” Talen complained, taking the chair from Charl. He disliked the distance of the chair from the console, as Charl always moved it back due to his freakishly long arms. He’d have to fiddle with the seat before it felt correct again.

“I did not,” Charl said, dropping into the co-pilot’s seat. As the ship’s engineer, the male rarely sat in the cockpit, let alone the pilot’s seat. “Security put out an alert for two Tal males, so I thought you’d appreciate a quick exit.”

Talen grumbled, unwilling to admit the male was correct.

“The alert described the males as particularly handsome, yes? That’s how you knew it was us,” Quil said, taking the third seat. Technically, the seat was for the weapons specialist, but they rarely had reason to use the ship’s weapons.

Charl snorted, two hands fastening the safety harness and the other two punching in a destination. “The usual?”

“Yes,” Talen said at the exact moment his brother said no. “Let’s get out of here first, before they lock the docking clamps.” The engines whined and the ship slid gracefully away from the dock.

Then lurched to a stop.

“Too late,” Charl said.

“Did the alert use our names? How did they identify us?” Talen spun his chair to face his brother. “You didn’t use our real names, did you?”

“Of course I did. Couldn’t have the deed made out to someone who doesn’t exist.”

“Quil,” he growled in frustration. That was so typical of his brother.

“Relax. It’s not like I used our real-real names.”

His claws itched and burned, yearning to break free and dig into his stupid brother’s stupid face. They couldn’t afford to lose time fighting but it would only take a moment to scratch that cocky expression off Quil’s face and make him bleed—

Quil seemed aware of Talen’s mood and jumped up. “I’ll fix it. Just be ready to fly.”

Talen growled but turned back to the console. Using the monitor, he watched Quil opened the hatch, attach a safety tether and lean over the edge. “Be ready,” Quil said over the ship’s comm. Then Talen witnessed his brother take a drill to the tether and disable it in a highly illegal and destructive manner to the station’s property.

“You’re paying when the station sends the repair bill,” Talen muttered into the mic.

“Go.”

The ship pulled away. As it crossed the haze barrier that kept the atmosphere in, the hull sealed shut. The station sent several requests to return to dock and cut off the engine. Talen muted the comm.

“That’s a violation of IU protocol,” Charl said. They had served in the Interstellar Union Navy together and usually, Charl’s instance to still live as if they were bound by IU regulations didn’t bother Talen, but it rubbed him the wrong way today.

“Get off my tail.”

“Don’t snarl at me. I’m not the one who got caught cheating at cards.”

Talen held his tongue. Charl tolerated Quil and his unorthodox recreational activities, but Talen knew his brother irritated his friend.

Good thing they spent so much time together in a tiny ship.

The males managed to avoid each other, despite the size of the ship. Charl spent most of his waking hours in engineering or maintaining the ship’s systems. With the ship’s age—decades beyond the time most vessels were put into retirement—the repairs were never-ending. Quil spent the majority of his time drumming up business to haul cargo and the occasional passenger. Cheating at cards was strictly recreational.

Quil’s stunt today still confused him. He had no idea why Quil would take such a huge risk and use their actual names.

The wayward brother returned, tossing himself into a chair with a dramatic sigh. “Your distraction was flawless but apparently there was a camera just over my shoulder,” Quil said.

Talen calmly set the destination, their usual retreat after a job, and then leaped from his seat toward Quil. He grabbed his brother by the throat, tail lashing viciously behind him. “What was that?”

Charl cleared his throat. “Right. I’ll be down below, watching the engines make pretty colors. Try not to kill each other.”

Quil tossed Talen a charming smile, the one he used to open doors, ease doubts, and convince people he was a harmless fool. “I know you’re upset—”

“You used your real name. Of all the irresponsible, foolish risks to take, I don’t understand. How could you be so selfish?”

“I can explain.”

“Do more than explain.” Talen’s thoughts crowded with the worry that Quil’s actions put their small family—technically his crew but in reality, his family—at risk. All they had in the universe was each other. How could he?

Quil’s legal name, linked with a good image of him, could tie them to everything they left behind on Talmar. If that happened, they would need to do more than lie low for a few weeks at Curiosity Terminal. The station didn’t verify ship information when it came to berth and manifest reporting was voluntary. It was the perfect place for those who played fast and loose with the law to pass the time. Outside of Interstellar Union space, warrants were rarely enforced, but the live-and-let-live attitude of the station management was no protection against a hungry contractor looking to collect a bounty.

“I’m tired,” Quil said.

“Then take a fucking nap—”

“No, Talen, look at me. I. Am. Tired. Of this life. Of the ship. I can’t do this anymore.”

Talen looked at his elder brother, truly looked at him. Despite being younger, Talen had never been the little brother. He stood a good four inches taller than Quil and the years in the IU Navy put solid muscle on his broad frame. Quil could never be described as delicate, but he had a slender, runner’s build. Quil enjoyed good food and wine, to the point of over-indulgence, but kept off the adverse effects with running. Every day, he ran on the treadmill in the makeshift gym in the cargo bay. He ran to the point where Talen heard the whirr of the machine as constant background noise, claiming it helped him think.

But dark circles hung under his eyes. He tossed smiles around with ease, but they didn’t reach his eyes. Talen couldn’t remember the last time Quil had genuinely smiled, or laughed, for that matter. Maybe that time they toured the royal gardens on Fremm, but that had been years ago.

“How long have you felt this way?”

Quil rolled a shoulder. “I’m not sure. It crept up on me. Besides, we have other factors to consider. You surely have noticed that life on the ship is growing harder for Bright—”

Talen’s tail lashed with annoyance. Yes, the ship was designed for a younger person. Yes, their adoptive mother was advancing in age. Yes, the ladders used between the ship’s levels were too much for her aging joints, effectively confining her to one level. “Then you want to sell this parcel of land and upgrade to a larger ship?”

Larger ships came with additional expenses. Their current crew of four lived comfortably—excluding the ladders and Bright’s joints—on the ship. The size of their vessel was just large enough to go anywhere, even long hauls in deep space, and small enough to dock anywhere without racking up enormous fees.

“No, I want us to live there,” Quil said.

“In a house?” Talen hadn’t lived in a stationary building since before he joined the IU Navy. How could he sleep without the constant background noise of ship engines?

“Yes, a house. Many people live in houses. It’s all the rage nowadays.”

“Smartass,” Talen grumbled.

“Imagine having a home and a mate,” Quil said, sliding an arm over Talen’s shoulder, like the male had no sense of self-preservation. “Imagine Bright sitting by the fire with a kit on her knee. Telling stories of Talmar.”

“I didn’t know you were the sentimental type,” he said, shaking off his brother’s arm. “Why not just purchase a house? Why this one in particular?”

“The moon violet.”

A flower. Of course. Quil had an extensive botanical collection in his cabin and had annexed parts of the ship, turning it into a garden.

“You swindled a man’s property away because of a flower?”

“It’s a rare specimen only found in certain locations, including Lerrence’s land. No one is preserving the habitat. No one even cares that the entire species could be lost.”

“Then we’ll go to the planet’s surface and collect your specimens.”

“No, that’s not the point. That’s not what I want.” Quil ran a hand through his hair, ruining his perfect coif. “Don’t make a decision right away. Let me show you the property.”

He sat at the console. Half the screen went dark and images of a rundown house replaced navigation charts. Stone with a slate roof, Talen saw only an unending list of repairs and renovations. The house was a pit they would pour the remaining portion of their inheritance into. “Perhaps it looks better in person,” Quil said.

Georgia:

Ms. Phillips, Thank you for submitting your application for our rental property. Unfortunately, without solid credit history or current proof of income, we are unable to rent to you at this time.

“Why did you leave your last position?” The woman behind the desk smiled, Georgia’s resume in hand.

And the interview had been going so well until then.

Georgia sighed, digging down to find the strength and give a bland lie about wanting new challenges, or a position with room for growth. Whatever she did say, she absolutely could not, under any circumstances, tell the truth.

But why bother? The moment they checked her references, Kevin whispered poison in their ears and convinced them not to call her back for a second interview. That was the only reason she could think of to explain how she could have interviewed every day last week and not a single one considered hiring her. Georgia shared her theory with Freema last night and while her friend didn’t outright call her paranoid, it was strongly implied.

“Well,” Georgia said, “I felt a bit restricted in the last office. The company culture didn’t agree with me.” Great, that made her sound like a fussy diva. She’d have been better off with a wishy-washy response about wanting new challenges and growth.

“Really? I always found that company to be quite excellent. It’s one of my favorite poaching grounds.” The woman made a note at the bottom of Georgia’s resume. The frown told her that the interview was all but finished.

“Does this company allow supervisors to have personal relationships with their subordinates? No? That seems wise, because I dated my direct supervisor, we lived together, and found him screwing the intern in our bed,” Georgia said, having nothing to lose. “I’m sure you can imagine why I felt I couldn’t continue to work in that type of environment.” She gathered her bag and stood. “Thank you for your time. I completely understand if you go in a different direction.”

The non-drama llama direction. Shit, even she wouldn’t hire herself after that.

Five minutes later, the dark gray sky finally dumped the rain it had promised all morning. Lacking an umbrella—of course—Georgia ducked into a coffee shop. The cheery holiday music playing did not match her mood. She scraped together enough coins from the bottom of her bag for a small caramel latte and dumped two packets of sugar into the brew. Then, deciding that her miserable day deserved something nice, she added two more packets to her bomb of sugar and caffeine.

Despite the disastrous interview, she left with her head held high. Of course, pride didn’t put money in the bank, and her account felt empty.

For the last month, she’d been living on Freema’s couch. She honestly had expected to find something—anything—by now. Her bestie’s one-bedroom apartment wasn’t made for two people and they were wearing on each other’s nerves. Freema worked odd hours at the hospital thanks to her med school residency. She’d come in at two in the morning, starving, and make a racket in the kitchen.

Georgia didn’t feel as if she could complain about her interrupted sleep when she ate Freema’s food, used her hot water, and couldn’t contribute to the bills. She did keep the place tidy and tried to do as much of the cooking as possible, avoiding complete mooch-hood. Still, they were two adults used to having their own space. Georgia seriously considered taking what remained of her savings and finding her own place, but what she could afford terrified her, and she wasn’t that desperate. Yet.

The last month burned through her modest savings with one emergency after another. First, she woke up one rainy morning to find four flat tires on her car. A new set put a nice dent in her account, but then the battery went, followed by the alternator. Fixing the car was non-negotiable. How could she get a job if she couldn’t get to job interviews?

While the car was in the shop, she had to take the bus. While she checked the phone for directions, someone bumped into her and the phone took a dive into a puddle, because it was raining—of course it was. The phone didn’t recover from its brief nautical excursion and even the cheapest replacement set her back a bit, but she needed a phone for the job hunt.

And the job hunt… Yeah. She fucked up today but as long as they kept checking her references, and Kevin badmouthed her, she’d never find a job. Leaving the job off her resume made a suspicious four-year gap. Maybe she could find someone else at the company to list as her supervisor? No, if she planned to doctor her resume, she should at least use Freema, who would sing her praises.

Had it gotten that bad? Having her best friend pretend to be her boss just to get a job, any job.

Depressed at the thought, she checked her messages. A response from Celestial Mates sat at the top of her inbox.

She remembered signing up for the dating app. The next morning, hungover, she canceled her account. At least she thought she did. There was probably a box she didn’t check or a button she forgot to press. The last thing she needed was dating drama. Kevin embarrassed her more than broke her heart, letting herself be played like that, but the idea of moving on made her nervous.

She’d just send a quick reply and set Celestial Mates straight—

A Tal male, with light amber complexion with darker stripes, grinned up at her. He had fine features, dark eyes framed with dark lashes, and russet hair that sat in an unruly mop on his head. Those eyes though, they weren’t quite human, and she felt as if he stared out of the screen directly at her.

Georgia blushed. He had to be the single most beautiful man she’d ever seen.

Tranquility Achaval.

This guy needed a mail order wife? Really? She felt confident that he could get a date easily.

She read the brief bio, which explained that he lived on Corra, a planet on the edge of nowhere, ran a bed and breakfast, and wanted an heir. Huh. So there weren’t any women on Corra? Or no women there were willing to make babies with him? Maybe he just had a thing for humans.

She scrolled back up to his image, trying to discern why a striking man such as him needed a matchmaking service. The photo told her nothing. Rereading the bio told her nothing more than he lived on a remote planet, ran a bed and breakfast, and wanted a family.

Isn’t that what she wanted? A family with a responsible partner? She could picture an idyllic life in a B&B, chatting with guests, and chasing after the little ones.

That sounded good, actually.

She went back to the photo. He had a charming smile and Georgia felt the desire to get to know him better, but Celestial Mates wasn’t a dating app. There was no casual dating or even a get-to-know-you. She had to make a serious commitment, a leap of faith.

The smart thing to do would be to delete the message and forget the beautiful alien man with a charming smile.

The rain showed no signs of letting up. She should get home now before traffic turned into a nightmare. It rained sparingly in Southern California but when it did, the city came to halt. She rushed out, oblivious to the rain. It drenched her with a cold that settled into her bones. Once in the car, she shivered and rubbed her hands together until the heater finally warmed the space.

Her options were running out and she didn’t know how much longer she could abuse Freema’s hospitality. Going off to marry a stranger on the far side of the galaxy seemed like overkill but, honestly, why not? Her evil ex would continue to torpedo her job prospects. Her bank account had hunger pains it was so empty.

But Freema…

Georgia had no family to speak of, but she had an amazing and supportive friend. Then again, Freema had always talked about going to an off-world colony after she finished her residency. A lot of colonial governments paid bonuses for skilled professionals to emigrate, especially doctors.

All that was a year away, but Georgia didn’t think Freema would change her mind. She talked about it too often.

Her gut said to take a chance on the Celestial Mates match, her perfect match, but her gut also thought moving in with her boyfriend and taking a job at his company was a grand idea. She couldn’t trust her gut.

Back at the apartment, she made a lasagna from scratch and waited for Freema to come home.

“Something smells amazing,” her friend said, dropping her rain-soaked coat at the door.

Georgia went to the kitchen and served up two helpings. She must not have looked the part of a happy homemaker because Freema laid a hand on her wrist. “What’s wrong? Is it the job hunt? Don’t worry. You can stay here as long as you need, roomie. Especially if you keep making me lasagna,” Freema said.

“I need to pick your brain.”

“Well, that sounds ominous.”

Georgia pulled out her phone. She explained the message from the agency and all the reasons to take a chance.

“This is him?” Freema grabbed the phone and examined Tranquility’s photo. “He’s almost too pretty.”

“I know, right? I keep wondering what the catch is.”

Freema stared at the photo. “Too lazy to date or too busy. I say go for it.”

“For a guy who’s too lazy or too busy to date?”

“He wants a family and he’s upfront about it. Besides, if it doesn't work, get a divorce and come live with me.”

“But you won’t be here by then,” Georgia said. Corra was far away, like a six-month journey away. By the time she got there, Freema would already have her bags packed. Her residency ended in eight months and she’d been shopping around offers for placement on a colony. A decade practicing medicine on a colony meant total debt forgiveness. Freema had been talking about that plan for years, since their freshman year of college.

“So come with me,” Freema said with a shrug. “You can be my office manager.”

Georgia looked at Tranquility’s photo again, willing it to whisper all his secrets and tell her what to do. “I’ve never had such a difficult time making a decision.”

“It’s a big one.”

“I want to say yes. I feel like I need a fresh start, but I’m scared.”

“You’d be silly not to be a little scared,” Freema agreed.

She took a deep breath. She wanted a family but even if the worst happened and she lost her fertility to cancer, there was adoption. Her kids didn’t have to have her DNA; she’d love them with her whole heart. Could she love Tranquility? Celestial Mates thought so.

Saying yes was a risk but it felt like the right move. Plus, she had a backup plan. If the match didn’t work out, she’d go to Freema.

“Any idea where you’re headed?” she asked Freema.

“I got a few offers, but I haven’t agreed to anything yet.” Freema finished the last of her lasagna and reached for Georgia’s hand. “It’s going to work out. I have a good feeling about this.”

“Okay,” she said, all the breath leaving her body in a rush. “Okay. I want to do it.”

Talen:

Welcome to your new home on Corra!

Our beautiful homeworld offers limitless opportunities for the industrious immigrant.

-Corra Immigration Affairs The property did not appear more attractive in person. The honey stones glowed in the morning light, which was about the only appealing feature Talen could find. When he looked at the sprawling house—more a manor, really—the inevitable and enormous heating bill, the roof in desperate need of repair, and a hundred fucking broken windows, crowded his imagination.

Quil bounded across the lawn in long strides, toward the tumbledown building, bubbling over with excitement.

In the three weeks since winning the property from Lerrence, they kept a low profile in the Terminal. Quil only played fair at cards, no hustling, Charl took the time to install necessary upgrades to the ship, and Talen splurged and booked a room for Bright. As much as he hated to admit it, Quil had been correct. Climbing up and down the ladder in the ship was too much for Bright’s aging hips and knees. If they were stuck at the station for weeks, she should at least be able to go out and enjoy all the station offered, rather than be confined to the ship.

Her silvery hair caught the morning sunlight and Talen hadn’t noticed how gray she had become. In his mind, she still towered over him with infinite strength and even more patience. Had she always been so small and slender? When had the warm amber of her complexion and hair faded to gray?

She hobbled, the arthritis in her hips and knees hindering movement. Talen held out an arm to her as they traversed the uneven ground. Bright was the first name he ever spoke and her presence formed his earlier memories. He had only a vague impression of his parents. When he thought of his mother, he thought of Bright. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her if she asked.

How long had the climbing the ladder in the ship been painful for her? She fell six months back and badly bruised her knees and hips. Luckily, she suffered no fractures. Even as Talen carried her up and down as needed, she never complained about the unfriendly accessibility of the ship. That fall had to have been the genesis of Quil’s scheme.

Quil had been correct to say that living planetside would be easier for her, and it rankled him that Quil saw it first. Talen had never been one to anticipate the needs or wants of another. He was more the type who, once he had been steered toward a problem, threw himself at it with a single-minded focus until he fixed the issue, be it a faulty engine, a face that needed to be punched, or a sprawling house with broken windows.

Damn Quil.

The inside of the house proved the building to be in better condition than Talen feared. The house had not been abruptly abandoned, but closed, as if the original owners planned to return. Heavy canvas tarps protected furniture from dust and falling plaster. Water damage, vermin, and simple age damaged the majority of furnishings in the house, but he felt some could be salvaged. Delicate porcelain dishes sat stacked in cupboards, coated with a thick layer of grime but in otherwise perfect condition.

Paint peeled away from the plaster walls. A few sections were lost to moisture and mold and needed to be removed. Vermin lived in the walls. Talen could hear their little claws scrabbling about.

Portions of the floor buckled from water damage, but those boards could be replaced. The subflooring felt solid. He inspected the floor joists in the lower levels and found them to be sound.

Quil rushed them through the house, throwing open the doors to reveal room after room filled with moldering old furniture. Leaves, dirt, and other debris scattered across the floor. Animals had nested in a few closets, leaving behind bones and other filth.

The sound of claws in the walls drew Talen back. He assumed it was vermin but it could be mornclaws. The aggressive pests arrived on Corra—no one knew how but speculated that a clutch of eggs arrived with a cargo vessel—and devastated the Corravian environment. They had no natural predators, bred quickly, ate almost any animal, and slaughtered huge portions of the population.

No. Those did not nest in houses. They buried their eggs in grassy fields, the more vegetation the better.

“Vermin. The place requires an exterminator,” Talen said, wondering how much of the dirt on the floor was scat and if he could slip on gloves and a mask without his brother mocking him. Let Quil laugh. He had never been bitten and suffered rat-bite fever or had to recuperate in an understaffed and overcrowded naval hospital.

“We’ll get a wuap. They make good hunters,” Quil said.

The house had enough room for them all, more than enough. They could each have their own suite of rooms and still be able to comfortably put up a dozen guests and a herd of vermin-hunting wuaps. Talen had no idea why they needed so much space. He had lived the last decade of his life with all his possessions fitting into a duffel bag. What would he do with a suite of rooms? All he required was a bed and a footlocker.

Quil’s excitement grew as they ventured further into the house, but the repair costs kept racking up higher and higher in Talen’s mind.

“It’s not perfect, I know, but can’t you see the potential?” Quil said, standing in what had once been a library Windows lined the far wall. Unfortunately, storm damage had broken half the windows. The library overlooked what had once been a charming garden but was now little more than an overgrown wilderness. Uncontrolled vines, heavy with perfume, pressed right against the glass and broke through into the room in several places. Sunlight filtered through the greenery, flooding the space with a soft light.

The room hurt Talen’s soul. Soggy books sat on the shelves, swollen and smelling of mold. A few books had obviously been chewed on by vermin. He couldn’t imagine that the remaining books were rare or valuable. The library had obviously been built by someone who loved books and Talen wanted to believe that they took the most precious books with them when they abandoned the property. Still, most books were digital and physical copies grew scarce. How could they just leave all those books to rot?

The stairs to the upper level of the library looked like they would crumble to dust with the slightest bit of weight. Talen squinted, trying to see into the shadows of the upper level. Shelving lined the walls and he could see the binding of several books.

He needed to save the books that could be salvaged. The rank stink of the room made him sneeze but he could never forget the scent. It would haunt him.

Damn Quil for knowing exactly how to manipulate him.

Mentally, he already segregated the books into various categories: acceptable, damaged but salvageable, and those without hope of saving. Yeah, Quil knew all his buttons.

The outdated kitchen was fully furnished. Charl pulled out a set of tools—from where, Talen had no idea—and got the stove in working order.

Finally, they entered what had been the conservatory and Talen understood. Barely visible, black and white tiles peeked out from under the layer of dirt that carpeted the room. Half of the glass panes had been broken, exposing the room to the elements, and the surviving plant grew in a riot of greenery. A thick vine twined around the exposed skeleton of the windowpanes, up and over like a canopy, and exploded in pale violet blossoms. The floral scent overpowered the space, mixing with the pungent aroma of soil and decaying leaves.

Quil ignored the show stopping blossoms and fell to his knees in front of a low growing plant with broad silvery-green leaves. “Oh, look at you lovelies—”

“You planned this whole thing,” Talen said. They had targeted Lerrence, not out of a sense to right a wrong or even to liberate some credit from the arrogant man, and practically stole the man’s property because Quil wanted a plant.

“The moon violet, still thriving. You’re gorgeous. Yes, you are,” Quil said to the plant, reverently stroking the leaves.

“I wish someone would look at me the way he’s looking at that plant,” Charl said, sharing a sentiment disturbingly close to Talen’s own thoughts.

Bright found a stone bench, brushing off the surface before lowering herself with a sigh. The light pooled at her feet and the air warmed with the sun overhead. “How much work is it to get this place habitable?” she asked.

“It’s habitable now,” Quil said, rising to his feet.

“If you don’t mind a lack of heat and running water,” Charl said. “I suppose we could live on the ship until I got the basics working. The roof seems solid enough, but we might have some surprises the next time it storms. Let me take another look at the boiler in the basement.”

Talen grabbed Quil by the elbow and pulled the male to the side. “All this for a plant?”

His brother yanked his arm away. “Not just any plant, the moon violet. Very rare and only found in a handful of locations.”

“And here.”

“Yes! Aren’t they beautiful? They blossom under the moonlight, you know. The soil has to be just right. The fact that they’ve survive here, abandoned, is miraculous. This house is a miracle.”

“This house is a money pit,” Talen said.

“This house is our future.”

Talen disagreed strongly but Quil kept talking. “I know we’ll sink most of our money into repairs.”

“Our inheritance.” The compensation they received from a second cousin for their parent’s stolen estate and bank accounts. The brothers went missing after their parent’s assassination and were presumed dead. After a decade, they had been legally declared dead and a cousin inherited what should have been Quil’s. Talen didn’t particularly miss having a house and land, or a title, but he knew it bothered Quil, who had always loved the gardens.

Had the political climate allowed for Quil to inherit, rather than be smuggled off-planet to save his life, he would have made a fine lord of the manor.

Of course, the brothers weren’t dead, and the cousin’s lawyers found them in due course. The brother received a payout for signing an agreement to never return to Talmar and never use their birth names. Some males might be disturbed by turning their backs on their heritage, but it was all ancient history to Talen. The planet of his birth had treated his family cruelly and he felt no great love for Talmar.

“Yes, and half that money is mine. I let you buy the ship,” Quil said. “We’ll do what we need to get this place presentable, then offer rooms as a bed and breakfast. We won’t be able to restore all the rooms at first, so we’ll have to do it as we go. Did you know there’s a hot spring somewhere on the grounds? Guests will like that.”

“Wait, a bed and breakfast? You’re joking.” Not once, in all the years, had his brother ever expressed an interest in playing host. Gambler and gardener, yes, but not a host at a B&B. “You don’t have the temperament for it,” Talen said.

“You don’t.” Quil rested a hand on his chest and said with all sincerity, “I am charming as fuck.”

Talen huffed, unmoved by his brother’s dramatics.

Quil continued, “But I know what you’re saying. I’m going to be too busy in here. I think it’s too late to plant for the spring, but I’d like to see what the grounds look like in the summer, anyway, before I plant.”

“You’re not listening to me at all.” Frustration edged into his voice.

“No, you’re not listening to me,” Quil said, finally turning his full attention to Talen. “I want this. When you came back from the Navy, you weren’t yourself.”

“I was—”

“I know, I know, and I don’t blame you. The only thing that made you seem half-alive was leaving port. Always had to be moving, could never let the ground grow cold under your feet, so I went with that. We made a tidy profit, had a few laughs, and that was good enough for a time.”

“Half-alive? Was I that bad off?” Talen knew his behavior after being discharged had not been optimal, but he thought he was better off than half-alive. It was just… he couldn’t pin it down, exactly. The universe was vast and he wanted to see as much as possible. Staying in one place made him restless. Anxious. If too much time passed, he found himself looking over his shoulder, which was unfounded and paranoid, adding to his frustration. Better to move on and not think too hard on it.

“So, we did your thing, and it had some fun, but I’m tired. I told you the truth about that, and Bright is getting older,” Quil said.

“I know.” He noticed how she climbed the stairs slowly and needed to rest frequently. “But you think this big house is the solution to that? She’ll wear herself ragged trying to run the house.”

“Then we’ll hire help. A place this size needs staff.”

“And Charl? You plan to give him a recommendation and drop him off at the next port?”

“He’s family and welcome to stay. This place has more than enough projects to keep the cranky bastard entertained.”

“You want to demote our engineer to a handyman?”

“Estate manager, then. It’s a promotion. What do you think?” Quil spread his arms wide and grinned, surrounded by the chaotic greenery of the conservatory. His tail swayed from side to side, pleased with himself.

Bright enjoyed the sunshine and the flowers. Charl was having the time of his life grubbing around, inspecting the inner workings of the house. Talen had lost the fight. This ridiculous scheme proved good for his family.

“Is this what you truly want?”

A smile tugged at his brother’s lips, a true smile and not the charming mask he slipped on. “Yes, very much, but what do you want, Talen? And do you think you can find it here?”

Talen took a long moment to consider. He joined the IU Navy to see the universe. But the only locations he ever saw were the bowels of an interstellar cruiser or a military base. The only exotic location he ever experienced was a steaming jungle full of mud and vermin.

He had also wanted to help civilians but found the vague assistance that the military delivered to be unsatisfying. They protected ships in the depths of space from pirates, yes, and had deployed to conflict areas, but Talen never felt the situation improved for all the muscle and ballistics the military employed.

“I want to help people,” he answered. “How can I do that here?”

Quil scratched behind one ear. “Why do you have to be so noble? It’s damn inconvenient.”

Talen tilted his head back and squinted in the sunlight that filtered through the dirty glass and the floral canopy. He had spent so much of his life off-planet, be it on ships or stations. Living on the ground, under an open sky, without the constant background hum of engines and circulated air, made him feel exposed.

His mother’s last words came to him. Take care of each other. They were all they had in the universe.

Quil could be such a manipulative bastard.

“Why couldn’t you just discuss this with me ahead of time?”

“I’ve been telling you my plan for ages, but you never listened,” his brother said.

Had he failed to notice? Was he too wrapped up in himself to hear what his brother had been trying to tell him? Probably. Selfishness and single-minded determination were flaws they shared.

He could do this, indulge Quil if that’s what his brother wanted. Having a home with a mate and kits still felt restrictive but he could be an uncle. He’d like that very much. Plus, it would take years to fill that library. His meager collection would fill a shelf, maybe two. The anticipation of hunting for books, talking with other collectors, lazy evenings reading in a comfortable chair—he selfishly wanted that.

“Three years is a good run,” Talen said. “We’ve been lucky, but our luck would run out sooner or later.”

“I knew you were a reasonable male under all the huffing and snarling,” Quil said, slapping Talen on the back.

Talen gave a low warning growl, ears twitching like an irritated male who knew he was about to be bankrupt. “I don’t have the temperament to be a host and you’re already obsessed with your violets.”

“Moon violet, and yes, that’s why I already signed up with Celestial Mates. I thought a human female would be good. Nothing says you have a successful business like a human. Stars know they’re not much good for anything but looking pretty. And the best part is that my new wife is already on her way.”