The Goddess Has A Feeling

"Talia, are you unwell?"

I blink, the concern in her voice surprising me. Looking into my face can be disconcerting, but I've gotten used to it. Dona made Theodora in my image as a gift while I recovered two years ago. I couldn't go into the job I had on the other side, and I hadn't lived here full time yet. She didn't know why I was so ‘ill,' but she really came through. Theodora became as much a part of our family as everyone else after the shooting. "Sure, why?"

The droid's eyes search me before stopping at my right hand. My blade is whirring as I spin it unconsciously. It's a nervous habit so ingrained in my psyche that I rarely notice it. Baby—my custom, wickedly sharp blade—never leaves my side. But when I'm this frenetic, Theodora knows what it means: I'm worried. She may be my exact duplicate in android form, but she's much more comfortable being outwardly emotional than I've ever been.

Sometimes I wonder who is actually the robot—her or me.

I'm not in the mood to discuss my concerns, though, so I forcibly take the blade out of my hand to stop the motion. Sheathing Baby on her thigh holster, I try to sound nonchalant as I reply, "Sorry. Habit."

Her lips purse and I immediately recognize the look. It's the same look I give poor souls who are trying to sell me a bill of goods I'm not buying in the least. She says nothing, but continues to stare at me.

Looking down at myself, I groan inwardly. Damn. I could explain away the blade work, but there's no way in hell that I'd normally be dressed like this in the comfort of my home. When I'm home, I'm the most unprepossessing creature you could imagine. But at work? Not so much. I could claim I forgot to undress while I waited for Taurus to get home, but I'm not talking to a toddler.

Theodora would see right through that.

I raise my gaze to hers, recognizing that she's tired of me trying to snow her. My droid is not dim enough to believe I'm pasted into skintight pants, a short vest, and the sleeveless duster with knee high shit kicking boots for giggles. Leather is not my comfort garb.

Sighing at the stark contrast between us despite our identical features, I smile half-heartedly. Theodora is dressed in a gauzy, ephemeral looking nightdress in a light coral. Her hair is piled loosely on her head with soft wisps framing her face to combine with the outfit to make her a picture of utter femininity.

She looks like peach ice cream on a summer day.

Her soft appearance doesn't mean Theodora should be under-estimated. Even in her state of bedtime undress, she's cool, competent, and lady-like. She may give off a tousled and content vibe, but there's iron strength underneath and I don't mean her frame.

That's why she hit it off with Damien from the start. Not that I have any clue what goes on between them behind the closed doors—nor would I want to. They aren't the type to kiss and tell. Theodora would consider it unseemly to even discuss those things, and she's all about appropriate behavior.

"Is this a new habit?" she asks, a touch of genuine curiosity and maternal intensity tinging her voice. "You're going to be stalking the halls of our home in your ‘death gear' at all hours of the night?"

The corners of my mouth twitch. Theodora saying the word ‘death gear' is like hearing Martha Stewart do a Lady Gaga impression. Sure, that's what I call the combination of leather and steel that I wear to work, and so does Taurus. But this is the first time I've heard Theodora use those words, and it belies her level of concern.

"No, it's not." I sigh again, feeling duty bound to explain so she won't worry. "It's that Taurus?—"

My voice stops as a wave of fury, pain, and another blindingly intense emotion rush through my mating bond like a freight train.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I must have unintentionally linked with Taurus earlier, and more than the usual background noise of our connection is spilling through. That's why I'm agitated, that's why I haven't undressed, and that's why the blade is spinning.

He went out with the kitty. After they met a few weeks ago, they'd be in constant communication. Taurus likes and respects her—which isn't something he encounters too often. Their long nights of conversation have intrigued and impressed him, so he's been spending time with her. Deli called him and, like a good boy, he went—even though she insisted on taking Rhea—which is a big deal. We haven't been on truly stable ground with his brother's family for a while, but for the kitty, he gave in.

I knew that was a bad sign, but hell if I was going to deny him the first friend he's ever had.

I truly believe that our self-imposed exile has taken more of a toll on him than he would ever admit to me. He's much more social than I am, and despite her wretched choices in other companions, he finds Deli fascinating. Taurus talks about her like she's a shiny new toy.

It's cute, though he'd flay me for saying it out loud.

For the last couple of hours, I've felt more and more restless; hence, the spinning. I must have picked up a growing swell of emotion through our bond, and when we link like that, it's impossible to separate his feelings from my own. He's been shielding a little—which is nothing new for someone with an empathic mate—but that made it impossible to tell what was happening specifically. I'd have to fight his block and I try not to do that if I don't have to.

Compartmentalizing hasn't been necessary, so I just dealt with the emotional bleed as I always do—it didn't even occur to me to question it. Unfortunately, now I have to stay connected because I have to find him. I pull back enough internally to eliminate his emotions before I look at Theodora.

My eyes widen, and I get pale. She understands and is by my side before I can blink. I look at her seriously, swallowing hard. "Get dressed, find Damien, and meet me in the living room. I have to collect weaponry before we go. We'll need both of you if what I picked up from Taurus is accurate."

She nods, then spins on her heel to hurry down the hall—still irritatingly graceful and lady-like.

"Theodora?" She turns to look over her shoulder, her eyes curious. "Just to cover our bases, start your vigilante and villain protocol."

I rarely see Theodora surprised. It doesn't last long as her head tilts and the command I issued makes her programming take over. Her posture is like steel as she strides down the hall to get Damien.

Hurrying to my room to get my equipment, I frown to myself as I strap every single sheath and holster I own on. Once I'm ready, I meet them in the living room. I have various types of blades on my arms, thighs, and boots. The knives glint in the lamplight, and Damien whistles as he and Theodora materialize.

"Test tube is rocking the Smuckers, eh?"

Theodora gives him a fond grin as he spouts his usual Muse riddles. Being the only Muse that anyone ever located, Damien's favor was in major demand until Dona made Theodora. Everyone swore they could understand his prattling, but since Taurus can barely decipher it and he lives with us, I doubt that claim highly.

Theo and I usually have to translate for him.

"You could say Taurus is in a jam, yes." I look at Theodora, who is dressed in ripped denim, leather boots, and fighting gloves. She looks nothing like the Barbie doll that was in my living room a few minutes ago. Her eyes are hard as she nods at me.

My high hopes for this venture with the cat seem to be dashed. I hoped Taurus could find a friend—a real one—that he could share all the endearing traits that only I get to see. He loves being playful, and he needs a bigger audience than our little family.

Deli seemed like a good fit.

Sighing again, I take Damien's hand and growl, "Get us there. Use my connection because he's in that stupid hideout of those idiots."

It seemed like a good idea when she called.; now, I'm not so sure.

I have such a bad feeling about this…