Tattle Tail: Celestial Mates (Tail and Claw Book 4) Read online

  Peaceable needed an ally. He could see that now.

  Well, shit.

  Time to face the consequences of his unintentional actions.

  “How long are you talking?” he asked.

  Peaceable

  “Pardon?” Peaceable’s voice squeaked.

  “This fiancé gig,” he said. “How long do you need me to play along? Dinner with your parents tomorrow, obviously, but is there an end date to this charade?”

  Joseph Moonquest was full of surprises.

  “My parents are having an anniversary party on New Year’s Eve. It will be their thirtieth anniversary,” she said.

  “That’s six weeks away.”

  And already she tried his patience.

  “The food is getting cold.” She fetched the serving bowl and dishes.

  “Let me. You make a list or a spreadsheet of events we need to attend. Silverware in here?” Joseph randomly opened cabinet drawers until he found the silverware.

  “A spreadsheet? That is not the best way to organize a schedule.” Though she did a spreadsheet of daily and monthly tasks that helped keep her work organized.

  “Yeah, well, you do you.” He set down a plate in front of her and scooped out a generous helping of rice. A pungent odor drifted up from the dish, and his nose wrinkled. “What is this?”

  “A rice dish with spicy fermented cabbage and poultry. There is flatbread in the container on the counter and a yogurt sauce,” she said, pointing to the counter.

  Once seated, he took a cautious bite, then nodded. He hummed with pleasure, which made her tail curl in delight. “This is good. It’s got a tangy kick. I like it.”

  They ate in companionable silence. It was easy to forget that they were not companions. He was only there because he took pity on her. Her pride prickled at the notion. She loathed being the object of anyone’s pity. Having Joseph regard her as incapable upset her more than she expected. Since when did she care about the regard of Joseph Moonquest?

  With his plate clean, he leaned back in his chair. “What do I need to know about your parents for tomorrow night?”

  “My mother is Tolerance. My father is Worth. They will be celebrating thirty years together,” she said, listing facts.

  His brows went up. “Didn’t you say your thirtieth birthday is in the spring?”

  “Ah, yes.” Simple math revealed that her parents married in haste to avoid a scandal. Back in those days, the family had been minor gentry and overly concerned with appearance. “I believe that is why Mother is so…” Peaceable waved a hand, indicating a general kind of intensity. “After the anniversary, I believe she will lose interest in this.”

  “Doubtful. Moms are always gonna be a mom.”

  “Perhaps,” she said, suppressing the need to explain that her mother cared about appearances. Tolerance wanted to present the perfect family for the anniversary party, the medic son who saved lives and the engaged daughter, ready to start the next generation.

  “That’s your no voice,” he said.

  “Perhaps.”

  He chuckled. “About tomorrow night…”

  “Mother will want to know how long we have been engaged and many more facts,” Peaceable said.

  “We should stick as close to the truth as possible. We met through work, obviously. Flirted for a long time before you asked me out.”

  “I asked you?”

  He leaned forward, closing the distance between them, and glanced down at her lips. “You’re very aggressive when there’s something you want.”

  “You do not sound troubled by this,” she said.

  “Sweet pea, it’s your best quality.”

  His words brought a flush of color to her cheeks. He didn’t mean them. This wasn’t flirting. This was…something, but not flirting. Perhaps.

  They needed to discuss so much—limits, behavior, what he wanted out of this arrangement—but her mind went blank. Joseph was doing that thing he did that made her feel unintelligent.

  “How long have we been dating?” he asked.

  “Not long. You proposed quickly because I am a catch,” she answered, reaching for the wine to refill her glass. Needing distance, she moved to a lounge chair. “After my parents’ party, we will break up.”

  “Fake break-up,” he said, following her into the common area.

  “Until then, we will need to be exclusive. No seeing anyone else. Will that be a problem?”

  He rubbed a hand up the back of his neck. “No. My last girlfriend dumped me a while ago. It won’t be a problem.”

  Peaceable wondered about that, but he did not elaborate. He didn’t sound like a male with a broken heart. “We should also spend time together to maintain the appearance of the engagement.”

  “Fake dating. I agree. There’s the charity gala next week. You’ll have to be my date,” he said.

  “Yes.” She was attending anyway. “Do you have suitable clothing?”

  He leaned back on the sofa. “Yes, sweet pea. I’m not fancy, but I know enough to dress formally for a gala.”

  “Good, because I sent Marigold a list of tailors that could make you a suit on short notice.”

  “That was you? Of course, that was you.” Then, “Do we need rules? For this?”

  “Guidelines are always helpful.” She would suggest no kissing, but she already broke that one. “We should only do what we are comfortable with.”

  “Are you comfortable with this?” He leaned forward and picked up her hand.

  “Yes.”

  “This?” He rubbed a thumb over the back of her hand.

  “Yes.”

  “This?” He raised a hand to her cheek. When she flinched, he paused. Taking a breath, she nodded, and he stroked the back of his hand along her jaw. It felt too good. Too intimate.

  “Engaged people are expected to be intimate,” she said, more for her benefit than his. “I should be comfortable with your touch.”

  To demonstrate this, she moved to sit next to him on the sofa.

  “I should warn you, I’m a hugger,” he said. “I come from a long line of huggers. People huggers. Tree huggers. Star huggers. You don’t know the world of snuggles I’m gonna unleash on you.” His tone was light and teasing as he gave her the chance to back away.

  She would not. Not now. “I am not afraid of your hugs.”

  “Are you sure?” He shifted, partially facing her. “Because if I hug you, I’m going to kiss you.”

  “If you are comfortable with that,” she said. Did he think this would intimidate her? Get her to back down from what? Soft touches and cuddles?

  Ridiculous.

  She lifted her chin. “Do your worst.”

  He tugged on her wrist, pulling her forward into his lap. In a smooth motion, he had his arms around her. She put her hands on his chest, almost giddy to discover how firm he felt under his shirt.

  He watched her carefully as he cupped the side of her face. His fingers combed through her hair. He brushed against the base of her ears. She jolted at the touch.

  “No good?”

  “Unexpected,” she said. “Do it again.”

  She held herself still as he stroked from the base of her ear to the tip. The fine hairs on the inside tickled at the sensation, making her want to lean into his touch for more.

  He licked his lips, watching her reaction.

  “We should practice kissing,” she said.

  “You seemed pretty good at it.”

  She searched his face for any signs that he teased her. He seemed sincere. “Pretty good will not convince my mother.”

  “Well, for the sake of credibility, we should practice,” he said, voice low.

  He placed a hand on the back of her neck, his palm warm against her skin. Watching her, he pulled her toward him.

  Their lips brushed. Soft, soft enough to doubt they ever touched. It was nice. Pleasant.

  Underwhelming.

  This lukewarm kiss might have been how Peaceable kissed, but she doubted that w
as how Joseph kissed.

  “You are doing it incorrectly,” she said.

  “Oh, am I?” His brows shot up. “And how am I supposed to do it?”

  “Like…” Her voice faded as she struggled to find the words. Like the person he kissed carried his heart. Like he could not breathe without them. Like he had fire in his soul. “Like this.”

  Her mouth captured his roughly. He opened for her, letting her sweep her tongue across his lips and into his mouth. His smooth tongue rubbed against hers. Satisfaction rumbled in her chest. Her fangs got in the way as she nipped at his bottom lip.

  This. This was so much better.

  She rose to her knees, pressing her body against his. She wasn’t sure what to do with her hands. Fists clenched and unclenched. She pressed them flat against his chest, then moved them down to his thighs, finally up to rest on his shoulders.

  His hands worked under her shirt, brushing against the skin there. He stroked up and down her spine, mapping her curves. She suddenly needed to touch more of him. All of him. She craved skin. She wanted to lick, taste, and explore every part of him.

  He stroked her tail.

  Peaceable stiffened. That was too much. Too intimate.

  “No?” he asked, pulling his hand away.

  “Do not be so vulgar as to grab my tail in front of my parents,” she said, falling into the familiar safety of aloofness. She removed herself from his lap and smoothed down her shirt.

  “Sure. I think we practiced enough for one night. If there’s nothing else, I’m heading home.”

  Once he left, Nettle demanded her attention. Peaceable stroked Nettle’s soft fur, wondering how much of a mess her little lie created.

  Chapter 7

  Peaceable

  The dark stone of the Daval house vanished into the night. The only source of illumination came from the round windows. Against the cold night, the windows seemed like eyes, watching her critically and finding fault.

  This was her home and Peaceable had never felt such dread as she did coming up the walk.

  Peaceable cradled the bakery box in her arms, mindful of her steps on the walk. It wouldn’t do to slip and drop the flaky pastries filled with nuts and honey. She went out of her way to go to her mother’s favorite bakery for the treats.

  “Swanky place.” Joseph stomped his feet to dislodge snow from his shoes.

  “It really is not,” she said. Her parents cared more for the appearance of a fine house—the manicured lawn, the lavish gardens—but the internal workings of the building struggled. The heating system failed to keep the stone house cozy in the winter. Peaceable much preferred her small apartment.

  Tolerance opened the door. She glanced at Joseph but said nothing. She turned her critical gaze to Peaceable, who thrust out the box of pastries. Accepting the box without thanks, she said, instead, “You’re wearing that? It is unflattering.”

  Peaceable picked at the collar of the Earth-style heavy woolen coat. It was not the normal wrap that Tolerance preferred, but it was warm.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Daval. Thank you for the invitation,” Joseph said. He stuck out his hand in the human greeting.

  “You may as well come in,” Tolerance said, ignoring his hand and stepping aside to let them pass.

  Peaceable saw the foyer with a stranger’s eyes; the highly polished floor, the gleaming fixtures, and the pristine set of high-back chairs that were to be admired and never used for something as mundane as sitting.

  “Peaceable, I require your assistance in the kitchen.” Tolerance did not wait for her response, heading directly to the kitchen.

  “I will be there shortly. Let me get our guest settled,” Peaceable said.

  “Well, at least we’re not late,” Joseph said, his voice quiet to keep the remark discreet.

  In no great rush, they hung their coats in a closet. Bits of snow stuck in the bottoms of her shoes melted, ruining the perfect gloss on the floor. Peaceable did not care.

  A fire blazed in the front room’s fireplace. This room suffered from the same stiff formality as the foyer, but the furniture was used for its intended purpose. Not that the chair near the fire was comfortable, but it was near the fire. A tea service waited on the sideboard. She touched the teapot, finding it warm.

  “You should wait here. It is the warmest place in the house,” she said. “Have a cup of tea. I will see what my mother requires.”

  “Tea by the fire. Swanky,” he said.

  “Can you be serious?”

  “I am.” To his benefit, Joseph’s eyebrows scrunched together in his confused expression. “This is a nice house. I’m trying to express admiration.”

  Their ideas of niceness were incompatible.

  It was not a nice house. Her parents were being extraordinarily rude. Her mother always had meals timed to finish just as guests arrived. She never required help in the kitchen. Her father should have been at the front door to greet them, or at least been in the front room waiting. Instead, Joseph was to sit in the room alone and be ignored. Her parents’ actions said exactly what they thought of Joseph, and the rudeness of it offended Peaceable. They raised her with high expectations for her behavior.

  She expected the same from them.

  He inspected the room, his hands folded behind his back. The decorative objects on a bookshelf seemed to be particularly interesting to him. “Is this a test? To see if I’ll steal something?”

  “I would not put it past my parents,” she admitted. “I am sorry to leave you but my mother…”

  He waved a hand, dismissing her apology. “I’m a big boy. I’ll be fine.”

  In the kitchen, Peaceable found her mother sipping a glass of wine. Dinner was already finished, waiting to be served. The bakery box sat unopened on the counter.

  “Do you need me to carry something to the table?” Peaceable asked.

  “No, we need to discuss that male,” her mother said.

  Peaceable had been prepared for this. Tolerance would question Joseph’s family, his career, and his feelings. The questions would be relentless, wearing Peaceable down until she finally agreed to whatever her mother wanted, just to make it stop. The only way out of this trap was to get ahead of the attack.

  “Yes, let us talk about how rude you are to a guest when you ignored his greeting,” she said.

  Tolerance’s ears went back. “Because I would not touch his hand? I do not know where it has been. It’s unhygienic.”

  “A verbal greeting?”

  “Why should I greet that male? He will not be here long.”

  Now Peaceable’s ears went back. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, this engagement is obviously a bit of rebellion. You will come to your senses and accept Lord Resolve’s offer.” Tolerance sounded so sure of herself.

  “No, Mother. I—” She glanced away. Despite all the lies she told recently, she found herself unable to say that she loved Joseph. Half the time, she didn’t even like him. Instead, she said, “I do not care for Lord Resolve in that way.”

  “But you could. Think about it, you’d be Lady Peaceable.”

  “No, Mother.”

  “The prestige you’d bring to the family—”

  This was an old argument, one Peaceable tired of hearing. “Are you on Armistice’s tail to find a mate?”

  “That is not the same. Your brother is a medic, and he is very busy with his work,” Tolerance said.

  “I am busy with my work. Does that not bring prestige to the family?” Peaceable had no idea where this sass came from. It was not like her to be defiant.

  Tolerance must have had the same thought. Her tail lashed out behind her. “You do not sound like yourself. That male is a bad influence on you.”

  “Answer the question, Mother.”

  “You design expensive toys for wealthy people. Your brother saves lives. It is not the same thing.”

  It stung to hear how little Tolerance thought of Peaceable’s work, not to mention the years of school that wen
t into her engineering degree.

  “My work is important,” Peaceable said, lifting her chin. “The communication networks in this sector run on the tech I helped design.”

  “Comms that do not work if it is raining.” Tolerance scoffed.

  Comms that work in deep space. Every stranded ship sent an emergency signal that was received, and the ship was rescued. Lives were saved. Trade routes ran smoothly because pilots did not have to worry about venturing to isolated planets such as Corra. The tech she helped to design kept the planet connected to the galaxy.

  She wanted to say as much to her mother, but the words died in her throat.

  “It is not nothing,” Peaceable said, her voice barely a whisper.

  Her mother’s ear went back, then moved forward. Peaceable had never argued with her mother before. She was as stunned as Tolerance. Finally, her mother dragged out the line to end all arguments. She said, “I am your mother. I am thinking of your best interests.”

  “As a kit factory for an aging aristocrat whose title was a meaningless honorific until recently?”

  Tolerance sucked in her breath, as if Peaceable had struck her. “How dare you speak about Lord Resolve in that way? After all the aid he has given this family, we are indebted to him.” Barely pausing for breath, Tolerance continued, “I cannot believe that you would spurn Lord Resolve for a cargo pilot. You know what they are like, unreliable, with a mate in every port.”

  Now that her claws were well and truly in, Tolerance delivered the killing blow. “I suspect this is why you kept the relationship secret; you know it will not last.”

  Peaceable’s chest tightened and breathing grew difficult. This was a disaster. She had been so foolish to think her mother would be pacified by an engagement. The first bit of push back from Tolerance and Peaceable wanted to confess everything.

  Her throat dry, she managed to say, “Joseph is not like that.”

  “He is exactly like that. It was not hard to find photos of him and his…companions…on the network.” Tolerance stressed companions in such an oily way that it made Peaceable’s skin crawl. “I’m sure Mr. Cayne has spent a fortune to keep the worst of his behavior from the media, but he cannot cover up everything.”