Page 63 of Bride of Choice

My hand, freshly washed and still damp from drying it off, clapped to my mouth to muffle my laughter at his reaction. Oh, I am so ruining these males. Before I knew it everyone would be calling Aunt Flo Aunt Judy. The jig would be up. There were going to be some supremely confused beings not in the know, human and beast alike. Joanie created chaos— my favorite kind of fun.

By the time everything was sorted out on that front and Kooky had helped me back to the couch, then stoked the fire and put something on to eat, the stars were bright in the night sky, peeking in from the bowed out looking, wood trimmed windows. The glass in the window frames literally curved outward, if by accident or weird design, I wasn’t sure, but the effect was interesting as snow fell to them and eventually rolled right off.

“So… you just eat, poop, sleep, and hunt, huh? All hunt and no play makes Kooky a happy Lo denaii?” Eyeing the male, I marveled at how at ease he was in the kitchen. He looked like he ate meat raw, bathed in rivers, and pooped in the woods, not Mr. Homemaker.

He was like Booger on a cookie baking bender, but with stew and surprisingly soft bread. I still sucked on the cookstove front in comparison to the Boogster or Goph but in that respect I had Rek beat by a mile. Practice makes perfect? Well, my ass was trying with my limited resources. Whole lotta stewin’ and pot made bread goin’ on.

I hadn’t made anything extra crispy or unintentionally blackened in quite a while. That counted for something. Yay me.

“Jes,” he said simply after a moment of contemplation. Ha-hah! And now I had him!

“Then… you won’t mind hanging around here in between all the stuff I’m not interested in? You know, everything but the eating and the sleeping.” Thinking better of what I’d just said, I was quick to elaborate, “Sleeping as in just sleeping, not like I’m interested in you sleeping, or watching you sleep or- Uhm, pooping… And I’m making this weird.” Shaking my head, a self-conscious laugh left me.

A soft noise had me looking up, spying Kooky as about a dozen emotions flit across his hard features.

“Look, don’t get the wrong idea, I’m not asking you to stay with me stay with me, I mean, I mean stay with me, but not like, uh, like that, you know what I mean?”

“Stay but not stay with Jo,” he rumbled out softly. His eyes looked more grey than blue in the firelight, deep and sharp, crisp. Sometimes they’d get so dark I’d swear they were nearly black, that blue rimming the pupil fairly glowing, electric, and at other times the grey stood out more than the blue, eclipsing them in gun metal grey shot through with icy white tipped cobalt. It was like they shifted with his emotions as much as the light he was under.

“It’s not like I can just scrounge up a friend to come stay with me, not without letting them in on what all the hell’s going on, and Celuk is your brother or whatever, right, so he won’t get mad if you stay over here instead of some person he doesn’t know…” Pulling out the big guns, I gave him my best pretty please, puppy dog eyes look.

Eyeing me, the male had the audacity to snort at me, the soft chuff he let out proceeding it informing me he wasn’t the kinda guy to fall for anyone’s bullshit.

Why did I find that appealing?

“I don’t want to be left alone for some idiot to come stumble across, piss me off, then have to go through all the trouble of hunting down a shovel to dispose of the body, or maybe for Celuk to come in and I dunno what, we aren’t going to even go there, but you can already tell I’m not the best guest or most social of sorts, my manners are shit, friendo, and I’m not above begging.” Batting my lashes at him, I preened. “Pretty please?” Reaching out, I held my hand out to him, palm up and angled downward, exposing my wrist. I’d seen beasties offering each other the gesture and from what I’d gleaned, it was a sort of universal sign for I trust you, trust me, I’m sorry, I accept your apology, amongst beastly dude bros. “We’ve got this groove going. You’re not going to try and jump me and force me into being your broodmare, and I’ll offer you sage advice on keeping your future lady and let you live. See? We both win!”

Strange as it might sound, Kooky was, but for his ridiculous name, a male I felt like I could trust. Crazy to even think, considering our rather short acquaintance but Lo denaii weren’t exactly the best actors/pretenders, and Kooky wasn’t making any efforts to impress me, not that I was picking up on. The extra crispy blackened toast he’d produced from that marvelously soft bread of his that he’d actually tried to serve me with a disgustingly guilty look on his furry mug was proof enough.

One look at my raised-eyebrowed stare and one hard tap on my bowl that chipped the edge, our toast bricks were set aside and a fresh, squishy loaf was split between us.

The male’s brow pulled into a heavy frown, brightening gaze traveling from my held out wrist to the dead as shit serious look on my face.

“I don’t want your peepee, Kooky-pooky. This isn’t a trick. Carebear-swear,” I snarked, lifting my free hand to cross my heart and then place my hand over it.

“Talk funny,” he grunted out, his voice gone deep and gravelly. Picking up my bowl, dark eyes shot towards the magic brew I’d polished off with my food. It wouldn’t be long now and it would be night-night for Joanie here. Hence, why I’d asked him to stay. The more lightheaded and tipsy I felt, the more my anxiety ratcheted up.

I felt… safer knowing he’d be looking out for me while I was completely incapacitated. Not once had that dude peeked at me when I had to do my business. Not once! Not that I had any idea why the fuck he’d want to.

“Sleepies make say silly wor-eds,” he grunted out softly.

“Sure, I say silly shit, human phrases, inside jokes, but I’m totally serious about asking you to room with me while I’m here. But like, in your own separate space, you feel me?” Some truth bombs were going to need to be dropped if I meant to convince him here. He was looking mighty reluctant to be hanging out here alone with me, which just made me all the more convinced this was a great idea. He wasn’t interested in boning me. This was perfect!!

Blowing out a deep breath, I stood, a bit off balance from the knockout broth brew stuff but pleasantly numb to the point my hip pain was tolerable enough I could walk around with a barely noticeable limp. “I don’t want to be alone.” Adjusting the strap of my purse over my shoulder, I turned away from him, glad of the distraction, to pick up my Mystery Mate’s pelt. “I’m so fucking sick of being alone. Not like alone-alone, but that alone feeling even when you’re surrounded by a room of fucking people but you’re like on the outside looking in and you have no damn clue how to be let in. I want to feel like someone totally has my back, no loyalties conflicting.” Turning back towards him, I couldn’t help but grin at the look on his face. “Don’t look so surprised. You’re fun to needle, a decent conversationalist without making everything about wanting lady advice, about just you and how great you are, trying to make a move on me that would absolutely not be appreciated, demanding this or that from me that just ain't gonna happen, a master of the cook pot but shit at toast.” My shoulders lifted in a shrug. “We can’t all be perfect, ahem, like me.”

He huffed out a puffing chuff, sarcasm expressed Lo denaii style, when I tossed him an overdone wink. “Here,” he rumbled out curtly, hovering to make sure I didn’t tumble tits over arse on my way across the room, herding me towards a long hall with a series of doors along either side.

At the very last door on the end, he opened it and disappeared inside. By the time he had the lamps lit and a single stubby, fat candle sat on a clay plate on a thick bedside table, I’d shuffled my way carefully to the door.

“Whoa. This place is fancy.” A long, slow whistle left me. “Sharp,” I mumbled, eyeballing the large bed piled high with furs that made up the guest bedroom.

It was simple, understated, very man of the wild bachelor style, and beyond elegant for something of the likes of Yetidom.

“Celuk must be, like, the big machismo around here if these are his guest accommodations,” I said absently, gingerly planting my butt on the comfiest bed I’d ever rested my rump on.

A big smile lit my face as I toed off my boots. Mama likes.

“No cheese,” Kooky grunted out, turning to rummage through the walk-in closet sized cubby area with a pelt hanging over it for a makeshift door.

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