Chapter 7

7

Flying in the rain wasn't nearly as much fun as she'd hoped. In fact, it sucked harder than a black hole. The weather caught up to them long before they made it back to Haven, drenching all three of them. Water streamed down her face, half-blinding her. She quickly gave up trying to see anything and buried her face in the crook of Torren's shoulder to avoid the worst of the wind.

Zanyr flew above and slightly ahead of them, so close it seemed as if she could reach out and touch him. Flying cover, he'd called it. She'd wondered what that meant, and now she knew. He was using his body to shield them from the weather.

When they neared the colony, Torren squeezed her shoulders to get her attention.

"Where?" he asked, his voice raised to be heard over the wind.

She wiped a fresh spray of rain from her eyes and looked around, trying to get her bearings from this new vantage point. It took her longer than she liked to find a landmark she recognized, but eventually she found her house.

"There." She pointed. "The one with the diamond on the roof."

That's when she noticed that every home had a different design, clearly visible from the air. It made sense, but it was one more detail she hadn't known about her new home. There was so much she needed to learn.

She thought they'd land on the roof, but they landed on the street near the gate to her home. As they touched down, one of her neighbors paused at their window to scowl at them. Jenna flinched, surprised by the hostility in the female's expression. Tani hadn't been overly friendly in the short time she'd lived here, but now she looked furious… and disgusted.

Torren growled, pivoting as he spread his wings to shield her from Tani's glare. "Ignore her."

"She's my neighbor. Ignoring her isn't going to be easy. Do you think this will happen often?" She knew about the Liq'za . They'd been briefed more than once on the faction of Vardarian society who believed that their species was superior to all others. They advocated for traditional values and racial purity. Haven colony was founded to escape those concepts, but somehow the ideas had made their way here, and lately, they seemed to have taken root.

No one knew how it had happened or who was behind the infiltration, but Jenna had heard the gossip. Some said it was Prince Tyran's sister, Empress Neha, who was still stung that her brother had broken away to start his own colony. Others whispered that it was not Neha but a rogue faction of her court who were trying to destroy the colony before others decided to follow suit. Jenna had read enough history, both Vardarian and human, to come up with her own theory. She didn't think the Liq'za had any long-term goals or a proper agenda. Some would be like-minded; others would only agree in the broadest of terms. Anger was the fuel that kept the fire burning, and fear fanned the flames.

"It won't happen at all. Not if I have anything to say about it," Zanyr stated, his words edged with ice. He turned to face Tani's house and then raised his voice loudly enough to be sure she and everyone else around heard. "As it happens, I'm part of the leadership council, so I do have a say. It's time to send a message to these beings. Haven was founded to be a place of acceptance and community. If they don't value those things, they are free to leave. Immediately."

Torren leaned down to nuzzle her hair as he whispered, "Zan tends to be dramatic sometimes, but he means every word. Your neighbor has been warned. If she gives you so much as a sideways glance, you tell us and we'll handle it."

She leaned into Torren and nodded once. "I doubt she'll do anything else. I'm sorry she feels that way, though. I don't understand why someone would join the colony if they didn't want to be around other species."

"Neither do I, blossom. We need to remind everyone that we came here to make a fresh start, somewhere that everyone is welcome."

"Hopefully they'll remember. But what if they don't?"

"Bluster and dramatic poses aside, Zanyr is right. If they can't accept the way things are done here, they need to leave."

The idea didn't give her a good feeling, but neither did knowing she lived beside someone who disapproved of her for no good reason.

Zanyr must have sensed her thoughts because he took her hand and squeezed it gently. "Sometimes a farmer has to cut away a blighted part of a plant to save it. If they don't intervene, the rot will work its way to the root. Haven's still a young colony. If we don't take care of it now, it won't thrive the way it could have."

"I know, and I get it. But couldn't Tani and the ones who think like her say the same thing?"

"They could." Zanyr scowled. "Hell, they probably do, but only among themselves. If they had legitimate concerns about something, they could bring them to the council or advocate for change. No one has done that. They just whisper to each other in the shadows. Nothing good can grow in those conditions."

Torren chuckled and shook his wings hard enough to splatter Zanyr with water. "Agricultural metaphors. Really? That's the best you could do?"

"It's what I know. Nothing is stopping you from spouting some chemistry-based wisdom."

"My good sense is stopping me. That and a desire to get out of this weather."

"I second that last bit. I am soaked to the skin. If I'm going to fly with you often, I'll need to expand my wardrobe."

"I'm sure the shops will have something appropriate," Torren said. He let go of her, and she walked over to the gate, unlocked it, and gestured for them to follow her inside.

Zanyr fell in behind her. "First, we'll shop for something appropriate. Then I think we should buy our mahaya a few things that are definitely not appropriate. I have heard others talk about something called lingerie. I am intrigued."

Torren groaned and threw up his hands. "Apologies, Jenna. Despite my best efforts, Zan is not always fit for decent company."

She laughed. "I don't care about that. Before I came here, I made a living raising and teaching the next generation of corporate executives. The first thing those children are taught is to conform to expectations. Even if it means lying to themselves and everyone else. The second thing they learn is how to use language as a weapon, especially polite language. I'd much rather both of you speak bluntly rather than play word games."

Once she got the door unlocked, she pushed it open and stepped inside. "Welcome to my home. I'm afraid there's not much to it. I haven't been her long enough to decorate. Oh, and Zan?" She used the nickname Torren had used several times today.

"Yes?"

"I've never owned lingerie before, but I'm not averse to modeling some for you… if we can find any."

"We'll find some," Zanyr declared immediately. "Even if we have to pay Hezza to import it."

"Oh! Hezza. Of course." She'd forgotten about the gregarious freighter pilot who had often visited their camp and brought them all sorts of things from other parts of the galaxy. While most traders were restricted to the orbital platform these days, Hezza was a trusted member of the community, even if she was only here part of the time. It didn't hurt that she was Anya's mother. They were both committed to the success of the colony and their own business ventures.

"We'll talk about what you need to buy soon. Right now, you need to get yourself dry and warm," Torren said.

Jenna glanced down at the floor, which now had three slowly growing pools of water where each of them stood. "I'll do that. Help yourself to towels to dry off. You'll find plenty in the closet right there." She pointed to a spot not far from where they were standing. "And don't worry about the floor. The bots will handle it."

She'd been shocked to discover her home, which had been gifted to her once she'd been granted full citizenship in the colony, came with comfortable furniture, a food dispenser, and small household droids that did most of the housework and maintenance. Even when she'd been contracted to live with the families she worked for and had been surrounded by luxury, her room had always been small, shabby, and equipped with only the barest of essentials.

"Sorry to leave you alone for a bit. I won't be long." It felt odd to just leave the two of them downstairs, but if she invited them up to her room, that would only end one way. So far, they hadn't pushed her for more than some scorching hot kisses. Were they waiting to give her time? Or were they unsure that this was what they wanted. That she was what they wanted. A little period of adjustment would be best for all of them. Wouldn't it?

As she climbed the stairs to the second floor, she had to squelch the temptation to call down to them and ask them to join her. She managed to reach her room, but deep inside, she knew she wouldn't be able to resist the sharhal much longer.

It took more willpower than Zanyr wanted to admit for him to resist the urge to follow Jenna upstairs. He didn't want to let her out of his sight.

"I know," Torren nodded toward the stairs. "Believe me, I don't want to be separated from her either, but we have to let her be. She needs time." He pointed to the kitchen and lowered his voice so they wouldn't be overheard. "And we need to talk."

"About what? And why aren't we using the link?" Zan asked.

"If you had two unexpected guests downstairs, would you feel comfortable if they lapsed into total silence?"

"Fair point. I'd wonder what the qarf they were up to and come down to check on them."

"Exactly. This way we're making a reasonable amount of noise, but she won't be able to make out anything we say."

"And you don't want her to hear us?" Zan looked around the kitchen area, taking note of everything he saw. She really hadn't been here long. No scuffs or scratches on the walls or the floor, and the counters were immaculate, as if she'd not dared to set anything down on them yet.

"I don't." Torren had the cooling unit open and was checking out the contents. Apart from several containers of fruit juice and a takeout box from one of the local eateries, it was empty.

"So, we're having that conversation. Are we going for the long and wordy version, or can we cut this down to a simple yes or no?"

"This is important, Zan. I think we owe it to her to have a real discussion about it." At some point Torren had drawn his dagger from his belt and was flipping it between his fingers. The old habit usually meant he was agitated or thinking hard. In this case, Zanyr figured it was a bit of both.

"So, long and wordy it is. You want to talk first, or shall I?"

Torren pointed at him. "You start. I'll see if there's anything in the food dispenser to give to our mate to help warm her up faster."

"Try not to poison her," Zan goaded his anrik and then spent a few seconds organizing his thoughts. " Sharhal aside, I like her. She's funny, sweet, and clearly smart. Probably smarter than either of us."

Torren snorted. "Smarter than you, yes. Me? Maybe."

Zanyr ignored the jibe. "The thing is, she's gentle. You've seen that. Right?"

"I have." Torren kept scanning the menu on the dispenser while they talked. "Your point?"

"What is she going to think when we tell her who we were? What we did? My own family can't deal with it. The only communication I have with them are written messages. What if she can't accept us? What happens then?" They'd both heard stories about failed matings. They rarely ended well for anyone involved. At best, those involved were left with heartbreak and emotional scars. At worst… He didn't want to think about that.

Torren made a selection and watched to ensure the program started before turning to look at him. "You want to lie to her for the rest of our lives? That won't work. She'll figure out we're hiding something from her."

"Yes. But not right away. I don't want to lie to her forever." Zanyr scrubbed a hand through his hair in frustration. "But I want her to get a chance to know who we are now before we tell her who and what we used to be."

He tensed, expecting Torren to argue with him. To his surprise, his anrik only nodded. "I agree. We should wait a while before we have that conversation. A few days won't do any harm." He reached toward him, his fist closed and his scar visible. "We tell her soon, but not yet. She's our mahaya , and she deserves to know the truth."

He sheathed his dagger and held out his hand. They crossed wrists, their scars touching. Zanyr could still remember the day they'd cut themselves and performed the bonding ritual. It felt like a lifetime ago.

"We've come a long way together, my brother."

"We have. And we found her." Torren looked dazed for a moment. "I wondered if we ever would."

Zanyr tapped his chest. "You had doubts. Me? I was always sure we'd find our mate. I mean, we're good-looking, smart, and charming. Oh, wait. I'm all those things. You're… sorry, Vex, but let's be honest here. You're just you."

"Asshole."

"But you said it with love."

At that moment, the dispenser gurgled, burped, and spat a generous quantity of something hot, thick, and beige into the waiting bowl. "What is that ?"

"Something called porr-idge." Torren sounded out the strange word. "My translator is having trouble finding a match for it in our language."

"I'm having trouble believing that's edible." Zanyr took the bowl out of the dispenser and sniffed it suspiciously. "It has about as much scent as it does color. As in, almost none." He set the bowl down before it burned his fingers. "This is food. You're sure?"

"It was on the menu, so yes, I'm sure it's food. It was listed under breakfast and marked as a favorite item. Whatever it is, Jenna must like it."

"You should taste it."

Torren shot him a look of disbelief. "You sniffed it already. You try it."

"You decided to make it."

After a few more seconds of staring, Torren found two spoons and handed one to Zanyr. "Together."

After swallowing, Zanyr shook his head. "Apparently porridge means ‘has no discernable flavor, texture, or smell.' What else does she have listed under favorites? That can't be it."

It wasn't. Jenna had several other meals tagged. They were familiar with several of them from eating at the Bar None and another restaurant called Earthly Delights. Curious, they selected another one neither they nor their translation program had heard of.

The second he caught a whiff of the newly prepared meal, Zanyr dug in. "Tamales are much better than porridge. You have to try this." He took another spoonful before Torren managed even one.

"This is much better. We'll have to ask her what ingredients the dispenser needs to make it at home."

Zanyr was already perusing the menu, looking for something else to try. "It's good, but do you think it's what she'll want to eat? She's already had two meals today. Oh, here's something. Chicken soup. I know what chickens are, and soup is a lighter meal."

"And we've devoured half the tamale dish already. Better make her something else."

The soup wasn't what they'd expected. Instead of a simple broth, it was made with a medley of vegetables and bite-sized lumps of dough they decided were dumplings. It looked so good they ate it with the rest of the tamales. "We don't know how long she'll be, and we wouldn't want it to get cold."

"Definitely not."