Page 24 of Alien Mine

And he took one then, before her mind could discern his mild prevarication, the exaggeration of a custom long forgotten and only practiced among young lovers aching for the old ways. Star cast, the Pruxnæ had been, long ago after the Great Migration, when humans fled Origin Space under the ruin and destruction of its greatest civilization.

Maybe only the one Pruxnæ had made it back between then and now, after the domestication of Terra’s bovi and the delicacies it provided.

The possibility startled him out of the kiss and into laughter. He eased back, pressed a chaste kiss to Rachel’s nose. She wrinkled that nose and stared up at him, and finally asked, “Kissing me is funny, huh?”

“No, beauty.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Truly, it isn’t.” He shifted his hips against hers, demonstrating exactly how she affected him, and earned the pleasure of her eyes widening and her hips rolling reflexively up into the proof of his desire. “Would you like another?”

“Yeah,” she said softly. “I reckon one more would about do it.”

And so he complied, as a man does when a woman was soft and willing under him, with the stars lighting their passion and a million possibilities spread out before them in the future yet to be.

Chapter Six

The pillow was lumpy.

Rachel huffed out a breath and banged the back of her head into it, searching for a comfortable spot. Fatigue ate at her, a dog gnawing a well-chewed bone, and her head ached from lack of sleep. Moonlight filtered through the curtains in thin wisps, illuminating the rumpled sheets scarcely covering her bare legs, the closet door half ajar, the shorts she’d dropped on the floor after that blood-heating kiss.

That kiss.

She rolled over onto her stomach and thumped her face into the pillow for good measure. One kiss out of Dyuvad hadn’t been enough, more fool her. She’d asked for another and another, and danged if he hadn’t given her exactly what she’d wanted, exploring her mouth with his in a slow symphony of rising passion. Hours later, desire stung her skin still, pooling in her nethers in a delicious slide of wet heat.

She was half tempted to crawl out of her bed and into his, and wouldn’t that be a sight. He’d likely welcome her, given how hard his manhood had been against her sex when they’d cuddled together under the endless, star-filled sky.

Like teenagers out on their first romp.

And her a divorced woman with two young’uns asleep down the hallway. So there she’d stay in her bed, tempted as she was to sneak into his.

First thing she could get into town, though, she was getting new pillows and that was all there was to it. The way she and Dyuvad were going, they were gonna smooch again. Next time, she wanted a comfortable place to rest her head afterward, even if she didn’t get a wink of shut eye.

The front porch creaked and wind sighed around the house, wafting tea rose scented air into her room through the open window. Dew damp mornings on a long summer day. She sighed and relaxed into the bed, smiling at memories old and new. Her and Fate whittling fishing poles out of saplings and carting a pail of freshly dug night crawlers down to the creek. “Catch a mess for supper,” Mama would say, and catch them they would, along with every other critter daring to dip a toe into the clear, cold stream.

Had Dyuvad done the same when he was a kid, sneaking out of chores with a sturdy pole?

Maybe him and Fate could go together. Maybe—

A low curse drifted to her, two voices, both male, and her heart jumped into her throat. Lordy be, somebody was outside, a stranger probably. Who else would come a-calling at that time of day? Family would knock or, more likely, call first, seeing as how nothing but an emergency would drag them onto her porch at that ungodly hour.

But if not them, then who? A lost tourist, out too early for good sense on the local twisted roads? Kids out making mischief, thinking a single woman with two young daughters made a good target?

They were about to find out different.

Rachel eased her hand out, groping for the end of the aluminum baseball bat she’d stashed between her bed and the nightstand. Dang it all, she should’ve gotten the shotgun from Fate’s. A warning shot did a heck of a lot to scare folks off what weren’t supposed to be around, and if that didn’t work, a well-aimed blast of rock salt to the hind end usually did.

Footsteps scuffled on the porch and something crashed, breaking against the wood. Athwuprent the night air, oddly familiar, and Dyuvad said, “The next shot will be to your heart.”

“Fuck it, man,” an accented voice said, and Rachel’s heart sank. Latinos, maybe members of Juan’s old gang, dang him. What the heck were they doing on her front porch?

“You have three ticks to make it to the road,” Dyuvad said. “One.”

Muttered curses broke out, followed by scrambling feet and another crash. Dyuvad calmly counted to three. Twothwupssounded, one right after the other, and a man screamed high and long. Dyuvad grunted, and before she could let go of the baseball bat, before she could collect herself and get out of bed, before she could do anything other than marvel at the bizarre events she’d just overheard, his hands parted her gauze curtains and his head popped into the dim light thrown by the crescent moon.

“Stay in bed, beauty,” he said, his voice gruff. “I’ll be back.”

He was gone in a flash. She let go of the bat, inhaled a shaky breath. Realized she was trembling from head to toe, and that wouldn’t do at all, would it? A mountain woman didn’t tremble in front of anybody but God. That’s the way it had been, was, and always would be. Besides, the girls needed checking on, and danged if Rachel would sit in bed while her renter handled clean up.

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