Star Bright (Big Sky Alien Mail Order Brides #22)

Chapter 11

Vash pulled the curtain closed around Yadira’s nest to cut some of the daylight and made his way to the windows to press his forehead against the cool glass. Outside the snow was still falling, the flakes large and slow.

“How’s she doing?”

At Darcy’s quiet question, he rolled his head to peer at her. “She said you fed her.”

“What that not okay?”

“That was very good. A hungry drakling is an angry drakling.”

“That can also be true of Earthers.”

Straightening, he glanced around them at the space, so quiet now, where beings from around the universe gathered to find each other amidst a much bigger, emptier space. “So many ways we are the same.”

“And you? How are you doing?”

That took another moment of thought. “It is…unsettling to me to think that the counselor who told me to be patient is long gone.” He let out a breath. “I think this time of quiet, away from everything, is not what he meant.” Pivoting to face her, he clasped his hands. The chill from outside seemed to prickle across his skin. “Darcy, may I ask you something?”

She tilted her head. “Sure. Whether I can answer though…”

“Do you think I was wrong to come here? Was I just fleeing my problems across space—and, accidentally, time?”

He was watching her closely enough to catch her slight jerk backward. “Oh. I’m not a counselor—or an astrophysicist, for that matter—”

“I’m not asking you as a counselor or a physicist, but as a…friend.” He hesitated. “Although crashing a spaceship on your lawn probably breaks certain social boundaries as well as laws of physics which is not an auspicious beginning to a friendship.”

“Vash.” She reached out to touch his clenched hands, and the warmth of the gesture—and her touch—eased some of the chill.

But the tension within him only tightened.

She continued, “I’m a terrible person to ask because I’m only here because I needed a place to escape my problems, to be by myself to think about things.”

He grimaced. “And then we came along to ruin your solitude.”

“That is not what I mean.” She squeezed his hand, a gentle reproof. “I just can’t answer your question for you. But it seems to me you weren’t trying very hard to get away from anything—since you brought what you love with you.”

“Yadira and Atsu,” he murmured.

“Did you plan to leave them here?”

He reared back. “Never!”

“Wanting more connection, for yourself and for them, doesn’t seem like a bad thing. I admit, the Intergalactic Dating Agency still seems a bit…strange to me, but the solar storm and the cryo malfunction and the crash had nothing to do with hoping to find someone—a date, a match, a…mate, whatever.”

He reflected on that. “I wish I’d done more to make sure this would be right for the fledglings.”

“Well, this is your chance now.” She gave him another squeeze then loosened her hold.

But before she could pull away, he caught her hand. Bowing to her, he touched his forehead to her knuckles.

He’d meant it as a gesture of respect and thanks, since draklings were a rowdy, sometimes pugnacious species who found it hard to be vulnerable with outsiders. But her fingers were scented with something sweet, a fragrance he’d noted on Yadira. Second only to flying was a drakling’s love of the sugary energy that readily fueled flying.

The beast wanted to lick her fingers.

He would not crash land on her lawn, unleash his unruly offspring, and then lick her .

But he had to clamp his teeth on the inside of his lips to stop himself.

When he raised his head, she was watching him, her brown eyes wide enough to catch the reflections of the snow falling outside in silvery shimmers. Draklings were not heartless killers, but they had evolved from hunters who rarely missed their aim. Something in her sensed that hunter, even though neither of them were what their respective species had started as—and both of them had changed past the simple creatures they’d once been.

And still she did not move, and he did not let her go.

Darcy was not his aim, he reminded himself and his beast. Even before he’d realized how his plan had gone awry, he been contracted with some other bride.

The storm blows, but the heart knows.

It was an old drakling saying that Shanya would sometimes throw at him when one of them or the fledglings felt excessively dramatic. He’d somehow thought that meant they would be together forever, come any storm. Losing his love to a lightning bolt seemed the cruelest sort of irony.

But it sounded as if Darcy had suffered no such storm, that the bond with her chosen one had never quite strengthened, never bloomed. Was that withering worse than the traumatic loss he’d suffered?

Maybe it wasn’t a matter of which hurt more or less; just, as she’d said, taking the chance to try again.

Calling on all the strength that had come back to him since the crash, he forced his hand open. The cold was worse, but he would weather that, as he’d done the loneliness after Shanya’s death. He would hold his children close. He would face what was to come, awake and joyful and remembering every moment even when it was hard.

He stepped back with another little bow.

Curling her other hand over the one he’d held, she blinked at him. “I… I do have some tasks to see to. If everything is okay here…”

Okay? The meaning of the word translated instantly through his implant, and he understood the expected reply. “We are okay.”

She nodded. “I’ll see if Kong can get you an update on the message to planetary authorities or when we can expect a rescue ship.”

“Then we shall let you return to your private holiday.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to kick you out. That’s not…” Then she seemed to reconsider. “That’s probably for the best. This is all just so strange and unexpected, for you and for me. It’s no surprise we’re all feeling a bit confused.”

“Just so,” he agreed.

It was storms of the sky and the heart that had brought him here, and maybe now they all deserved a little peace.

+ + +

Unfortunately for his good intentions, his fledglings seemed set on chaos.

Yadira woke first from her nap but she stayed in her fort, and from the instructional voice coming from the datpad that Darcy had found for the fledglings, she was searching for “one hundred standard sols of interstellar history” and “how to make ice cream”.

But when Atsu emerged from his nest, yelling, “Where is everybody?” and Yadira replied, “We rebuilt the spaceship and flew back in time,” the afternoon went amok.

So when Darcy appeared, her arms overflowing with outdoor clothing, he could’ve wept with relief. “I thought we might go outside so you can experience a Montana winter,” she announced. “Atsu, I’m sorry but we don’t have anything in your size from the equipment closet, so we’ll have to make do.”

The heavy jacket, puffy and sleek like the one Darcy had worn, came down almost to Atsu’s feet. He laughed and swirled around, the hem flaring. “I have wings,” he announced, then immediately and guiltily looked at his sister. “Not really though.”

Yadira ignored him as she donned a jacket of her own. The bright, silky lines of the fabric only made the dark tangle of her hair look more unkempt and menacing. Draklings weren’t exactly vain, but they did like to preen, and it bothered him that her indifference had sunk so deep.

When they’d planned the ceremony to usher Shanya to the eternal skies, he’d offered to do Yadira’s hair as he used to when she was smaller, or bring in one of her aunts to help, but she’d just snarled at him, as adolescent draklings sometimes did. And she’d taken care of it herself, but here they were again.

Not exactly in the same place, of course.

He would not pick a fight with her now, not when she was voluntarily going out with them. But he almost canceled of his own accord when Darcy pushed open the door and swirling snow and cold surrounded them.

Atsu bolted past him with an excited yell. “Snow!” he hollered, as if he’d been waiting for this moment his whole short life and not discovered it a few hours previous.

Yadira followed more slowly, looking down at her feet where the snow came up over the top of her borrowed footwear.

“We won’t stay out too long,” Darcy said. “We can dry everything when we come back, and have some hot cocoa.”

“Hot cocoa!” The ecstatic cry echoed across the whitening expanse.

When Yadira tipped her head back to gaze up at the gray sky, the light turned her green eyes silver. “It’s just water,” she murmured. “In a different shape.”

Vash couldn’t quite parse her tone: dismissal, wonderment, indifferent accuracy.

Something white and round hit him square in the chest, exploding in cold little speckles up into his face.

“That was a snowball,” Darcy announced. “You can’t do that with plain old water.”

He looked down at the remnants smooshed across his own heavy coat. When he glanced askance at Darcy, she was packing another sphere between her hands, her teeth bared at him.

He growled back.

She laughed again. “Atsu, you are on my team. Vash, Yadira, we challenge you to a snowball fight.”

It turned out, chaos wasn’t all bad.

By the time they called the draw—Atsu’s hands were too small to make suitably large projectiles, but Darcy had the home planet advantage, balancing the teams well enough—they were all wet and cold and thoroughly exhausted. Although maybe Vash was just speaking for himself. But everyone seemed happy, and he thought he even caught a glimpse of at least one smile on Yadira, although admittedly that had come as she was pasting her little brother with a flurry of particularly impressive snowballs. But his son had been laughing uproariously the whole time and promptly jumped into the nearest drift as Darcy called a break.

“Cocoa and cider with cookies are available in the main lobby now,” Kong’s voice called through the patio comms.

Even Yadira looked excited at that announcement.

Borne on Atsu’s chatter and proclaiming of half a victory, they piled back into the lobby, shedding their soaked outer layers, which Darcy promptly whisked off the floor, and hung on the backs of chairs.

“Vash, will you take a look at the fireplace and see if you can get it going?” She smiled at him.

As he went to do her bidding, she grabbed a towel and gave Atsu a brisk rubbing.

“Ow, why do my fingers hurt so much?” He shook his hands vigorously.

“Sometimes when you get very cold, when you are a very good snowball thrower, the skin gets nipped by the cold and then your nerves tingle as they’re coming back to life.”

What was that hesitation in her voice? Vash slanted a quick glance at her from his place in front of the fireplace, but her gaze was already sliding away from him.

“Not actually come back to life,” Atsu said, suddenly serious. “Like Ammi won’t come back. She would like snowballs though, I think, so this moment will also live in the happy skies of my heart.”

Even as Vash’s throat tightened, the fire whooshed to life, warmth and light blazing in the big open space of the lobby. That half of his face prickled—coming back to life, Darcy had said—while the other side was still cold. All together, they arranged the chairs of wet clothing and damp towels in front of the fire.

Kong wheeled up. “Ug has programmed the bar dispensers for bottomless cocoa and cider.”

Since Darcy was off to one side talking to Yadira, Vash oversaw the filling of four mugs with the hot cocoa. Following the droid’s suggestion, he topped each liberally with something called whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles, which Kong insisted were necessary for an ‘authentic Earther experience’. When Vash turned back to the rest of the group, Darcy was gone.

Despite the delectable sweetness teasing his senses, disappointment pierced him. She’d said she had other tasks to see to besides his little family. And yet…

By the time he’d handed out the mugs to his fledglings—and was met with mumbled thanks and a cry of delight distributed predictably—Darcy had returned with a small bottle and a pointed implement.

He gazed dubiously at the mugs. “If that is for additional cocoa embellishment, I’m afraid I didn’t leave room.”

“No, this is for Yadira. She said I could take a stab—literally—at her curls.” Darcy brandished the poking implement. “Mine causes me trouble too sometimes.”

They clustered around the fireplace, the draped clothing around them making another sort of fort and still smelling of the dark wilds beyond the window. Vash closed his eyes as he drank from the cocoa. He couldn’t hold back a soft noise of pleasure.

“Good?” Darcy was watching him even as she settled behind his daughter.

Yadira echoed his movements, and her green eyes flashed wide. “So good.” The confession sounded wrenched from her, and Vash wasn’t sure whether to be amused or despairing.

He’d only wanted to show his fledglings that despite their loss and sorrow, the universe held wonders.

Darcy took a drink, and when she lowered the mug, a white puff dotted her upper lip.

The sight of it sent a surge through Vash’s loins, unwanted and inappropriate in this situation. He cleared his throat. “Ah, Darcy…”

She glanced up at him, one eyebrow raised. “Yes? Do you want me to do you next?”

She would let him leave his cream upon her mouth?

Another surge, nearly as devastating as a spaceship crash, left him without not just memories but any functioning thoughts at all. It had been a hundred years since he read the IDA handbooks on Earther sexuality, but some memories rushed back with the right stimulus.

“Your hair doesn’t have quite the same curls,” she continued. “If the outpost salon was open, you could at least get those ragged ends trimmed up.”

She thought he was talking about his hair. He wrenched his gaze off her mouth.

“It looks like someone hit you in the face with a snowball,” Atsu said. He dunked his lips in the small amount of whipped cream remaining in his mug to demonstrate.

A flush of color, almost as bright as the dancing flames, chased across her cheeks in cheery contrast to the white dot of cream. She hastily licked at her lip, then passed a napkin to Atsu.

Vash wished she had not been so thorough with her tongue. Then he might have helped.

Awkwardly hefting his mug, he tried to swallow down the inappropriate thoughts, memories of his risqué readings, the urge to discover what other wonders this Earth possessed.

For her part, Darcy seemed oblivious to his impossible desires. She spoke quietly with Yadira—nothing he could hear over Atsu’s snowball-by-snowball recounting of their epic battle—as she worked the single-toothed comb through the knots. Yadira kept her head down, as if the mug in her hands was the most crucial point in her universe, and each strand of dark hair newly freed fell forward around her face to hide her in a disguising curtain.

But as the fire warmed and dried, the strands coiled up into a cloud of ringlets, each one shining auburn as Darcy ran them through her oily fingers.

By the time they were done, Atsu had gone through two more cocoas and a cider, announced they were both his favorite thing ever, and fell over sideways with a contented sigh, his eyes closing.

Darcy glanced at him and chuckled. “I guess he finally ran out of words.”

“Daily snowball fights and cocoa feasts for all,” Vash prescribed.

Darcy groaned, a sound that sent another instinctive surge through him. “I don’t think my metabolism can take it, not the running around or the whipped cream.”

He wanted to give her more than that.

Grimly, he squelched his beast’s relentless refocusing on something that couldn’t happen. Yes, they had come to Earth for an alien bride, but with everything that had happened and his new insights into his fledglings’ needs, it was clear this wasn’t the right time. When his message got through to Skyearth and the rescue ship came, he would take his offspring and go.

But the snow was still falling.

Darcy put her hands at Yadira’s temples, gently smoothing up, over, and down the length of her hair one more time. The gesture lifted the fledgling’s head. Her eyes were closed, and there was a peaceful stillness to her that reminded Vash of the time when she’d been still in the egg and he’d sneaked into the nest box to press his ear to the tough-fragile shell, holding his breath, listening for her heartbeat, his beast whispering to hers of the joy of wind and light and touch.

Her beast might be still nestled within her, but his daughter wasn’t a fledgling anymore, he realized with a pang. Maybe it would’ve been easier to acknowledge that if Shanya had been beside him to mark the years, if they hadn’t all been trapped in their sorrow.

But he needed to help her free her beast.

Just not right this moment. For one more day, he would hold his fledglings close. The mingled warmth and chill of that decision swirled through him as he rose and crossed to Darcy and Yadira.

His daughter opened her eyes and held her arms up at him. Without a word, he swept her up and carried her to the fort next to her brother’s. Her legs were too long and she smelled of otherworldly oils—and she was his fledgling still.

She was asleep before he laid her on the cushions, so he and his beast stole one more moment to watch her breathe before he tucked the curtain closed.

Darcy was washing up at the bar, but she glanced back at him with a wistful smile when he settled on one of the stools. “Out like a light, hmm?”

“Recovering from cryo is like coming to life again,” he said quietly. “This is a good place to engage all the senses.”

With a last few clinks, she stacked the dishes to air dry before turning to him, leaning her elbows on the bar. “I wonder if that’s part of the reason the Intergalactic Dating Agency picked Montana of all places. I thought maybe it was just because there’s nothing else here, less chance of getting caught. But maybe there were positive reasons too.”

“If the rest of the universe knew about chocolate sprinkles, Earth would be granted open world status immediately.”

She chuckled. “If Earth could make the universe a sweeter place, that would be a lovely legacy.”

He gazed at her solemnly. “You have made our waking sweeter. If I had to fall into a hundred-year sleep and wake upon crash landing, I’m happy it was with you.”

The flush of color was back on her cheeks as she lowered her gaze. “Well, the IDA prides itself on welcoming and comforting along with dating, I guess.”

“Showing Atsu how to make snowballs, untangling Yadira’s hair, that is more than just welcoming comfort.” Resting his hands on the bar next to hers, he steepled his fingers. “On Skyearth we have rare phenomena called verikai—I think the closest translation is cloudgates. They are beautiful, swirling clouds that form between the mountains and the sky, and only after terrible storms. For draklings, the verikai symbolize not just the bridge of our two selves but a uniting of what is best in our world.” He expanded his gesture to reach for her. “You are such a wonder.”

She swallowed as she let him enfold her hand. “It’s been…an experience for me too.”

“I would explain in more words how indebted I am to you, that you have been this connection between my fledglings and myself when I feared we were coming apart. But my beast tells me words are not enough. May I show you?”

Across the not-so-great distance between them, he watched the flutter in her throat, her eyes widening. “Show me…what?”

He lifted himself off the stool, leaning toward her to inhale the scent of her, sweet cream and oil and something muskier, a fragrance that made his beast rumble deep within him. He was tall enough that leaning close brought him just a little over her. Gazing down, he whispered, “You told me Earthers dream of flying. Do you want to fly with me?”