Tail Dark and Handsome: Celestial Mates (Tail and Claw Book 3) Page 4

  Day spa to get a facial. Hair salon. Manicure.

  Mari paused, wondering if all the grooming was to prep for the wedding or to charm his next victim, presumably Sandria. Regardless, she wouldn’t pay for the man’s vanity.

  At the bottom of her inbox, she found a message from Celestial Mate. Congratulations on your nuptials! Please take our six-month survey and tell us about your match!

  Those tears she couldn’t find? The dam broke. Her chest tightened as her breath grew shallow with sobbing. Tears blurred her vision and her nose dripped. Blindly reaching for a tissue, she attempted to clean herself up.

  Months ago, staring down her thirtieth birthday, Mari nervously entered the Celestial Mates office. She had done some research on dating apps and matchmaking services. Celestial Mates had a stellar reputation and franchise locations literally everywhere in the galaxy.

  Celestial Mates wanted a testimonial?

  Oh, she had some things to tell them and wrote a terse reply.

  The bell chimed, indicating that someone waited at the door. Mari had an idea who.

  Nox stood prim and proper in a rich, plum-colored tailcoat and black suit, complete with a top hat. The vivid color oddly complemented his amber complexion, which seemed quite a feat for the brash fashion choice.

  He swept off the hat and gave a half bow. “Oh, good, you received the notice.”

  Nox moved to enter her apartment, but Mari blocked the door. No way was she allowing him inside. Bad enough that the place still reeked of Tomas’ cologne, he’d smarm up the last of the breathable air.

  An ear twitched. “I am the new property owner,” he said.

  “Since when?”

  “Since the previous owner found himself with unexpected medical expenses and a willing buyer for a, frankly, subpar piece of real estate.” Nox dragged a finger across a chair seat, inspecting it for dust, before sitting “This is a bit raggedy, itsn’t it. I suppose it has a certain rough charm.” He leered at her and waggled his ears.

  No. Just no.

  “I have rights. You can’t enter without twenty-four notice and a good reason.”

  “Unless it is an emergency. Do I smell smoke?” He sniffed dramatically.

  “This is harassment. You can’t make me pay off Tomas’ debt because there’s no legal obligation and now you’re harassing me. I have a lawyer.” A lie, but she played it cool, folding her arms over her chest and leaning against the doorframe like she was the kind of person with a lawyer on call.

  “No obligation? Your signature on a promissory note begs to differ.”

  “I signed no such thing,” she said without hesitation.

  “No?” Nox produced a tablet. A projected image of her signature hovered over the screen.

  “Forged,” she said, shoving the tablet away.

  “Perhaps. Or perhaps you blindly signed anything your lover pushed at you.”

  Mari said nothing because that was…not inaccurate. There had been so many forms, starting with the matchmaking agency that introduced them, to the marriage license, and right down to signing the lease on the apartment.

  “Consequences. Who knew they were so vicious?” he tutted, sounding amused. “We could come to an arrangement. I can always use a pilot. I have so many packages that require delivery. Work for me and work off the debt.”

  “In twenty years? No thank you,” she scoffed. Indentured servitude was a trap, and Nox’s line of work involved smuggling, at best. Not interested.

  “Marigold,” Nox purred. “I like you. I’ll give you two weeks to pay up or I put a lien on your property.”

  “What property?” She tossed her hands in the air. “I don’t own anything except for some wedding gifts I can’t return. Would you like a new set of pots and pans? Bath towels?”

  “I think your share of the family business would suffice.” He grinned, fangs showing.

  A chill descended over Mari. “A clunky old tourist shuttle?”

  “The ship is easy capital,” he said with a nod, “but a hanger that is owned outright is the true prize. Real estate. No nasty business with leases and rent.”

  And having a legitimate business to act as a front for his nefarious activities only sweetened the deal. She connected dots in her mind.

  Tomas left her holding the bag, and now his selfishness endangered her family. The spiritually enlightened tours her mother offered didn’t draw huge profits, but they worked hard to build up the business. They bought the hanger and a clunker of a shuttle at a bargain rate. Joseph kept the ship flying, Mari flew, and Valerian picked the unique destinations that tourists with credits to burn crave.

  “This was never about Tomas. You want to steal the business,” she said. She couldn’t let Nox get his grubby hands on that. Instead of liquidating the assets, he’d use it as a reputable front and slowly twist the family’s hard work into something criminal.

  His tail swayed behind him. “Tomas is a man with so many vices. So many weaknesses. Let’s call it a happy accident.”

  “For you.”

  “Of course. I am a selfish male,” he said, his tone placid and content. “The opportunity was too good to pass by. Two weeks, Marigold.”

  Well, fuck.

  If she ever saw Tomas again, she planned to shove him out an airlock. Karma be damned.

  Winter

  Winter slammed the tablet down on the table. The traitor jumped. His eyes immediately went to the headline emblazoned on the cracked screen that asked, “Like father, like son?” A blurry photo centered on Zero, speaking to Winter. He recognized the location as the symphony they attended the previous night.

  “You can’t fire me. You have no cause. Anyone could have taken that picture.” The male folded his arms across his chest. At least he had enough decency to acknowledge the problem.

  “What part of confidentiality confused you?”

  “That was on a public street. Someone recognized you.”

  “Or someone tipped the media off,” Winter growled.

  The male paled. Winter never liked the male, but he needed a research assistant and the male’s qualifications were impeccable. He should have listened to his instinct and kept searching. The male had only been with them a week. Winter quickly scanned through the previous week, searching for any gossip a bitter ex-employee could sell. Other than the monotonous details of everyday life onboard the ship, Winter had nothing, but that didn’t mean the male would not fabricate a titillating story.

  Winter frowned at the image on the tablet. The shaggy-haired male barely resembled his former self. Once, he had dressed elegantly in bespoke suits and his hair was carefully styled to appear disheveled yet stylish. That male had been the public face of his father’s company, a carefully groomed image with his mate on his arm. Charismatic and talented, she was made for public adoration. They presented the image of the perfect power couple, him with his research bolstering the family fortune and her as one of the most famous musicians in the system.

  Appearances were shallow things.

  He had not been that male in many years. Thinking about it made his tail curl with mortification.

  After his mate’s death, his father did his best to bury videos and witness testimony about that night Rebel disappeared. Thankful Cayne believed his son had something to hide, and Winter was all too eager to go along with it. He lost his taste for public attention and longed to fade into obscurity. Far too many headlines captioned unflattering photos of himself. He knew how the media tore into a person, exposing nerves until nothing else remained.

  He had to think of Zero and protect his kit.

  Addicted to pain pills?

  Winter’s Cold Fury. Get the inside story about his anger issues.

  What Happened to Rebel?

  Once, he enjoyed the attention. Now it made him itch with discomfort. He did not care what the media said about him, but his kit was off limits. Usually, the non-disclosure agreement that all new staff signed was enough to keep Zero out of the gossip.

  “It’s just a photo,” the male said. Winter eyed the nervously twitching tail. Did he believe the malicious gossip and expect Winter to fly into a rage?

  “A supply transport will arrive in twenty hours. You will leave with them,” Winter said, voice cold enough to freeze the blood in the male’s veins.

  The male reared back as if he would protest, but then his shoulders slumped, his ears going flat in defeat, then left.

  Winter examined the image on the cracked tablet. Blurry either deliberately or from a low-quality camera, the image appeared to have a filter applied to darken Zero’s complexion.

  Like father, like son?

  Winter knew very well that people questioned the stark difference between his and his kit’s markings. Zero’s pale gray complexion and dark gray stripes supported rumors that Zero was not his real son.

  When they stood side by side, Winter could see that his complexion was much darker. An entirely different color palette, he had been told.

  “I don’t care,” Zero said, standing in the doorway. Dark hair flopped forward, making him appear vulnerable. He lifted his chin in stubborn resolve. “You’re my real father, biologically or not. DNA is not everything.”

  Winter tossed the tablet down. The screen gave a pitiful crack.

  Damn Rebel for leaving them such a mess.

  “Of course you’re my son,” he said. He flexed his fingers, wanting to pull Zero into a hug, but the adolescent resisted such affections. Instead, he lightly thumped Zero on the nose. “You have the Cayne family nose. It is distinguished.”

  Zero rubbed his nose. “Freaking huge, you mean.”

  “Monumental.”

  “Honking. Big and honking.”

  Father and son grinned at each other. Zero’s nose c
ame down from his brow in nearly a straight line, with no dip at all, and seemed a few sizes too large for his face. He’d grow into it. Winter knew from personal experience.

  “Every male in the Cayne family has been gifted with intellect, which is balanced by our nose. It keeps us humble,” he said.

  Zero snorted but kept his comments to himself. More than anything, Winter wanted to bundle his kit up and hide him away from the rest of the universe, where malicious gossip could never reach him. Winter tried his best to protect Zero, but new threats arose every day.

  “The assistant was a mistake,” he said.

  “As was the pilot. And the other assistant. And the student.”

  Winter scratched the base of his ear. He refrained from adding that he had hired none of the people Zero listed. Chase had sent them. “What are you saying?”

  “We started the summer with a team of five. Now it’s just you and me.” Zero’s nose wiggled, almost a sneeze.

  “They were unacceptable. Better to have no one than the wrong person.” The fired staff members had all leaked information or committed some transgression. The student, though…Winter caught the student playing music on a device as he took apart the inner workings of a prototype bot. “Perhaps I overreacted with the student,” he admitted.

  Zero snorted. “It’s lonely in these hills.”

  “I’m protecting your privacy.”

  “You’re suffocating me.”

  Winter held up a hand in surrender. While he and his kit shared many qualities, they were not the same person. Winter could happily spend years in isolation. Zero wanted friends.

  Fuck. He was a selfish male, pretending to be motivated by protecting his kit and not merely avoiding awkward social interaction.

  “We do not have to stay confined here. Perhaps we can explore the village,” he conceded.

  Initially, the mountainous terrain had been chosen to test Chase’s newest bots. They were designed for reconnaissance in all terrain and weather conditions. Winter rented an isolated farmhouse to use as a base of operations because no matter how state-of-the-art and luxurious Chase made a ship, it was still a ship. Camping long-term always ended with foul odors and short tempers. Winter wanted the space—and windows—of an actual building.

  The nearby historic temple intrigued Zero, who could wander the ruins while Winter tried his level best to break Chase’s toys. It was the perfect arrangement for Winter, but had to be lonely for an amiable kit.

  Zero’s entire body perked, and his tail wiggled with excitement. “This is excellent! I want to go to the beach. And sailing! Can we go sailing?”

  “As you say.”

  Work could wait.

  Chapter 3

  An unlikely voice from war-torn Talmar! Rebel Cayne, formerly Ferre, releases her recording debut, Starshine, with catchy, lighthearted lyrics.

  -Interstellar Music News

  Marigold

  The communication unit vibrated. With a sigh, Mari checked the message.

  A pair of deep purple, velvet-booted feet rested on her sofa. The caption read, “Had a report of a water leak.”

  Nox.

  Disgusted, she tossed the device on the table and covered it with a napkin. Ignoring her problems at least for a few days had been too much to ask.

  The comm unit vibrated again, dancing across the table between plates and cups.

  “Are you going to answer that?” Valerian asked.

  So much for a peaceful breakfast.

  Two new messages. “Enjoy your trip. We’ll talk when you get back,” Nox wrote, and followed that with a picture of his hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea. Her favorite mug.

  Lovely. Now she’d have to throw away her dishes.

  Mari must have made a face or scowled because Valerian said, “What’s wrong? Your aura is out of alignment.”

  “Mom, auras don’t have an alignment,” Mari said.

  “But you admit something is wrong.”

  Mari poured herself another cup of coffee and bought herself time adding milk and sugar. Morning sunlight warmed her shoulders. She tilted her head back, enjoying the feel of sunshine on her skin. A born spacer, she spent her life on ships and stations and had the pale complexion to prove it. The forecast promised rain, but she didn’t let that keep her inside. Her exposure to real sunlight or weather—like the promised rain she looked forward to—happened rarely.

  Wind fluttered the loose strands of hair around her face. A wide brim sat in an empty chair next to her. That morning, the cleansing unit automatically coated her in sunscreen after her shower. Only two days in the sun and her complexion already picked up a slight tan.

  “Sunshower in a Marigold Fields, do not ignore me,” Valerian said.

  The comm unit vibrated again. Before Mari could grab it, Valerian snatched the device. She frowned. “Is this from Joseph? Why is he giving wine to a houseplant?”

  “What?!” Mari reached for the phone, horrified at the photo of Nox emptying a bottle of not inexpensive wine into her potted fern. She furiously typed back, “I’m deducting that off the cost of my debt.”

  “I also had a snack. I can’t say I’m impressed with your selection of cheese,” Nox replied.

  “Stop eating my food!”

  “Pay me my money,” he replied.

  Ready to scream with frustration, Mari turned the comm unit off. He’d sent her messages for the past two days, mostly of him invading her privacy in her empty apartment but also, disturbingly, pictures of the outside of her cabin at the resort. He knew her location and had a connection on the island to keep tabs on her. There was no escape and no way to pretend, even for a little while, about the debt hanging over her head.

  She couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t enjoy breakfast.

  Her gut instinct told her to bury the problem and hide it from her mother, but Mari knew it would come to light. Valerian would eventually read the messages because she was a nosy busybody. It’d be better to get in front of this, to take away the hold Nox had over her imagination.

  “I got a problem, Mom,” Mari said.

  The bemused expression slipped from Valerian’s face. “Tell me.”

  “Tomas borrowed money from people, the kind of people who always get their money back. I may have—okay, did sign a promissory note.”

  “You did what?” Valerian’s teacup rattled in the dish. “I think I need something stronger than an herbal blend this morning.”

  “I don’t remember, but there were so many forms. I just signed anything Tomas gave me.” Mari stared down at her hands in her lap, shredding the paper napkin. “I trusted him.”

  “You loved him,” Valerian said.

  Mari shook her head. “Not anymore.” If she ever did. The more she discovered, the more she realized that she hadn’t known Tomas at all. He presented a false front, designed from the start to be her perfect match.

  “How much does he owe?”

  Mari told her. Valerian spilled her tea.

  It was a large but not impossible amount. The interest was the real killer.

  “It’s worse. If I don’t pay, Nox says he’ll put a lien on the business,” Mari said.

  “Nox? Noxious the Moneylender? Noxious the Poisoned Tooth?” Valerian shook her head. “He has a terrible aura. So murky. Why would Tomas go to him?”

  Good question. That exact question kept her up all night.

  “I think he approached Tomas,” Mari said.

  Valerian tapped the crystal pendant hanging around her neck, then the crystal bracelet. “Probably fishing for a legitimate business to do the laundry,” she said, astutely.

  Startled that her mother’s mind worked that way, Mari said, “Launder. To launder money.”

  Valerian waved a hand and said, “We’ll figure it out.”

  For a moment, Mari believed her mother. She might have been flighty and drifted through life, letting the currents of the universe take her where they willed, but Mari never doubted her mother’s love or questioned her safety. It was such a happy, comfortable place to be. She shouldn’t allow Nox to live in her head, keeping her up with worry.