Chapter 7

Cairo

I didn't sleep much.

How could I?

Every time I rolled over, every time Meli made a little noise in her sleep, I was reminded I wasn't alone in my own bed. That had never happened before, and the fact that the interloper was the woman I'd shared a passionate kiss with, the one whose scent was trying to drive me mad…

Yeah, not a lot of sleeping.

Even her snores were adorable.

By four a.m. I'd given up on trying, and as silently as possible, I rolled out of bed. I didn't want to do anything to disturb her, not when I was making my escape like a coward.

I padded barefoot to the kitchen and made coffee as quietly as I could.

Coffee, man. Another great human invention.

You know what else was great? Candy bars. I unwrapped a "fun-sized" chocolate bar—P.S., nothing "fun" about something you can eat in one bite, but they did fit perfectly into my coffee mugs—and dropped it into the coffee.

As I waited for it to melt, releasing its chocolaty-and-nougaty goodness through the bitter brew, I scrubbed my hand over my face and wondered what the hell was wrong with me.

Whywas I feeling like this? So…wrong? It was as if my entire body was, I dunno, on fire or something. Each bit of my skin was prickly, every sense was attuned to her, straining for a hint of Meli, who was asleep across the house.

Last night, sitting with her, seeing her laugh, feeling her touch…it had been torture. My cock had been rock hard—I was still semi-erect, just waiting on my coffee—and I'd wanted to kiss her again. Wanted? Hell, I needed to kiss her again.

I'd been in actual pain, and I didn't know why.

I'd had to remind myself again and again that this "boyfriend" thing was just to fool her family. She'd only accepted my kiss in her shop because it was part of the ruse.

Last night? This morning? I'd just been her friend, doing friendly stuff, like putting a clock back together, for fuck's sake.

Scowling, I gulped the coffee. It was too hot, but I welcomed the pain to distract me from the rest of what I was feeling.

I couldn't be here when she woke. I was going to take the coward's way out.

I grabbed a pen and piece of paper, and jotted off a note, pointing her toward the coffee—should still be warm—and bagels. I told her I had an early job, and I'd see her later.

There. Nice and succinct.

I escaped to my garage.

I had plenty of projects to work on—Mr. Wilson's caddy needed an oil change, which I could do with my eyes shut. Turned out it was a good thing I could do it by memory, because every sense was attuned to the house.

I knew when she woke up. I knew when she found the note. I knew when she poured herself coffee, and I imagined her puzzling over the Milky Way wrapper I'd been distracted enough to leave on the counter.

What the shit was going on? Was I imagining all of this? How could some—some female consume my senses, consume me, so thoroughly?

When she left the house, I knew that too, and crept to the window to watch her walk down the sidewalk in her cute little pink top with "Meli's Bake Shoppe" embroidered on the breast.

Groaning, I dropped my forehead to the glass. Don't think the word ‘breast' in reference to Meli.

I was going to need another shower.

And when I say "shower" I hope it's obvious I wasn't dirty; I just needed some lubricant and an easy way to clean up after.

Then, drained, I took a nap, thank fuck. After a late lunch, I went back outside to work on the transmission of a ten-year-old SUV. This was the kind of vehicle Meli needed; something serviceable and large, but not new. She shouldn't have to buy new, and I could keep it running for—

Fuck.

I couldn't even work on a transmission without relating it to her somehow?

"Hey, Cairo! You in here?"

I recognized that voice. Sliding out from under the SUV, I scowled up at the upside-down Karnak. "Your Jeep break down again?"

The fucker just smiled. "Good to see you too, Cairo. You remember—"

When he stepped aside to reveal the older male behind him, I'll admit I jumped to my feet. "Giza, I wondered when you'd get around to visiting."

Giza offered an arm covered in the intricate tattoo designs he was known for, and knowing what he expected, I clasped his forearm in the traditional orc greeting, rather than shaking his hand.

"I know your legs work too," Giza growled, a small smile on his lips. "You could've accepted Karnak's invitation to dinner the other day."

Karnak answered for me. "Cairo doesn't do invitations."

"Ah," the older male nodded. "Same old Cairo."

I brushed off their teasing. "You want something to drink? Eat?" What did I have inside that I could serve them?

But Giza flicked his fingers dismissively and peered around the garage, as if looking for someone. "I don't want to intrude on your time with your Mate."

And that?

That fucking floored me.

"What?" I barked at the same time Karnak made a sound very much like surprised laughter and blurted, "What Mate?"

Giza straightened and studied me. Pretty sure I was gawping at him like one of those fish with the big mouths.

"You're not Mated?" He shook his head, then peered closer. "But the Heat…"

"What Heat?" Karnak repeated.

Heat.

Yeah, heat—fire, pain, wrath—described the way I'd been feeling.

"Look at his eyes," Giza commanded quietly.

When Karnak leaned closer, then whistled in understanding, I had to resist the urge to knock him aside and stalk toward the closest bit of reflective chrome.

"What's wrong with my eyes?"

Karnak winced apologetically. "There's definitely a bit of green in there. A glow. I've never seen it, but Jess says that's what I look like when…"

He trailed off, and I'm embarrassed to admit I couldn't let it go. "When what?"

Giza had crossed his arms in front of his chest and was studying me. "The eyes glowing green are a sign of intense emotion in an orc male."

"I know that," I snapped, remembering fights I'd seen as a child. "But I'm not Raging."

"You don't have to," the older male said quietly. "They're also a sign of Heat."

"For the love of shit, Geez, start making sense." I dragged my hand through my hair. "What heat?"

"Do you want to sit down or—"

"No, I want you to fucking answer me," I snapped. "I'm not hot!" But that was a lie. "Am I sick? I'm sick, aren't I? Is this a fever?" My father and older brothers had died this way, of a fever that sapped their life.

Giza shook his head. "When our people find our fated Mates, the physical response isn't just arousal. We are attuned to them, all of our known senses and some unknown. We know them in a way that's impossible to describe to an unMated orc. The Heat you're going through is part of your body's response—usually it happens when a male is rejected or can't be with his Mate for some reason."

It was as if his words were coming from a distance.

Heat?

Mate?

I turned to Karnak, unable to form words, but desperate for some sense to be made of this.

Instead, he shrugged. "I knew Jess was my Mate for years before we were able to act on it, but I never experienced a Heat. I think because I lived so close to her—next door—my body didn't know I hadn't been accepted yet."

"So you're saying…" I rasped. "You're saying I've found my Mate?"

"And since you're not currently fucking your brains out, she's rejected you." Giza sighed. "I'm sorry, Cairo."

But Karnak was shaking his head. "The Heat could be because he doesn't realize the female is his Mate. Who have you been spending time with lately, Cairo? Please say it isn't Mrs. McGee."

His teasing wasn't helping. I didn't answer—couldn't, wouldn't answer—but I stumbled away from them, toward the house.

What in the ever-loving shit was going on?

I wasn't in Heat…was I?

Oh fuck, that would explain so much.

Sometimes I regretted having forgotten so much of the world I was born into. I should've known Giza would remember everything—that was his job! An orc's tattoos were more than decorative, they were the story of our people.

And if he could take one look at me and know what was going on, I had to believe him.

From behind came their voices:

"I think he's surprised." That was Karnak, dry and sarcastic.

A sigh from Giza. "We've shocked him. Let's leave him be. I'm here through next week, Cairo," he called out, although I couldn't acknowledge him. "Come to me if you have questions!"

Questions? I had all sorts of questions.

But not the kind he could answer, not right now.

The questions I had could only be answered by burying myself in Meli, and now I knew why.

Heat? Mate?

Fuuuuck.

I'm not really sure how I managed to survive until she came home—no, not home. This wasn't her home; this was just temporary. Hell, I wasn't even certain she'd come here; maybe a room at the BB had opened up, or maybe she and Jess worked out something or maybe…

It was useless to obsess over it. I spent the day working on the old Force engine and doing my best to ignore the pain shooting through my veins every time something reminded me of Meli.

Which was all the fucking time.

Somehow, I knew when she was walking up the sidewalk, and I was already out of the bedroom when she came to the front door. Somehow? Shit, this was the Heat thing, wasn't it? Giza had said my senses would be attuned to her.

He also said I'd know her. Did I?

Meli looked tired—that was my first instinct. I was already reaching for her when I remembered I wasn't really her boyfriend.

She wasn't really my Mate.

I had no right to take care of her, to ease her frustrations.

I curled my fingers into fists and satisfied myself by watching her carefully. "Everything okay?" I tried for a mild tone.

"Yeah," she sighed, offering me a smile that didn't look at all natural as she sank down into one of the chairs in the living room. "I'm just…"

"Tired?" Cautiously, as if uncertain how to move in my own damn body, I sat across from her on the couch. "You look tired."

"I hope you don't mind I came here again?"

She hadn't answered my question. Did she sleep as poorly as I did last night? "No," I admitted because I couldn't blurt out, I think I'd be miserable if you hadn't. "Your family is still staying in your apartment?"

"Yep." With a sigh, she leaned back in the chair, her left hand rising to knead at the muscles of her right arm in what looked like an unconscious move. "Mom was…difficult today. She gave me a lot of grief about not being available to hang out all day."

Meli had told me what happened yesterday. "But…she didn't give you a heads up that she'd be in town, right? She's just…what? Expecting you to drop everything, close the shop, and show her around the island?"

"Oh, she's perfectly capable of showing herself around the island, but that's my mother for you. If she's in the room, she's the most important person there, so of course her daughter would be thrilled to take time off from work in order to follow her as she shops."

I felt my lips twitching at her dry tone. "She sounds like someone who's never had to run her own business."

"Truth," Meli sighed, fingers still massaging. "And I couldn't get away with putting her off twice. Tomorrow's my early day—I need to get to bed early, okay?" She sounded as if she was ordering me, although she was staring at my chin and blushing.

"Okay," I murmured, uncertain what I would have to do with it.

"Peggy's going to come in early too. So all I have to do is bake and decorate tomorrow morning, since I prepped so much today, and then I'm off for the rest of the day."

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "To hold her shopping bags?"

"No." She winced. "Mom wants to go to the beach. And…" She took a deep breath and met my eyes. "She wants to hang out with you, get to know my boyfriend."

Oh, shit.

Meli must've seen something in my face because she quickly sat forward. "It's okay. I talked you up today, about how busy you are all the time, et cetera, so I can just tell her you're not available."

"Will she believe you?"

Another wince. "Honestly? She'll likely assume you're avoiding her. Which, I mean, makes sense. But…"

"She'll give you shit about it?"

Wordlessly Meli nodded, her self-massage working down to her forearm.

Distracted, I watched the way her fingers dug into her skin, making little dimples that just seemed wrong. Was she in pain? "What's wrong with your arm?" I belatedly asked.

She seemed surprised, as if she'd forgotten she was rubbing it, and glanced down at her hand. "Oh—nothing. It's stupid." Another sigh. "My stand mixer is broken, and I didn't have the time to get online and figure out what's wrong with it. Instead, I just mixed everything by hand today, and the cookie dough is really thick and—"

"Come here," I commanded gruffly.

I should've said please.

But to my surprise, she didn't object; just stood up and crossed the room. I didn't make her ask what I was thinking, and instead took her hand and pulled her to the couch beside me.

At least, that was the plan.

Instead, somewhere between the standing and the sitting, she ended up on my lap. Maybe it was my fault, or maybe she just changed directions on the way down. It should've been awkward and unexpected, but it didn't feel that way.

Something inside me, the something which had been burning me all day, relaxed.

"Give me your arm."

Meli shifted until I could reach her right arm, and when I squeezed the bicep, she let out a happy little sigh and pressed her cheek to my shoulder.

The massage was awkward and only one-handed, but I figured her arm was too small for me to use both hands. Besides, I didn't really know what I was doing. I tried to picture my own arm and muscles, the way it ached when I did too many pushups…and I rubbed it there.

Her soft little sounds of pleasure told me I was doing the right thing.

And they also reached into my jeans, wrapped around my cock, and stroked. Hard.

I was hard again, of course, but not miserable. For some reason, touching her like this wasn't exacerbating the pain. It was…calming me.

Meli shifted against me, her thighs cradling my erection. She didn't mention it, and neither did I, but her breathing changed. My hand worked down to her forearm, thumb stroking the muscles along the inside. I was careful to keep my claws retracted, and I studied the way my green skin looked against hers.

It should've been jarring. It wasn't.

"That feels so good, Cairo," she whispered, and when I glanced at her, her eyes were closed.

Carefully, I worked my way down to her wrist. Did her hand hurt as well? No harm in massaging it. My fingertips dug into the meat of her thumb, and she groaned out loud, shifting against me again.

I paid special attention to her palm, then each finger, before working back up to her forearm. My fingers could encircle her entire arm, but I wasn't worried about hurting her, or breaking her, the way I'd worried with some human partners in the past.

No. Meli was strong. Strong and brave and determined, and she'd meet me head on.

Mate.

I could feel her pulse tapping against my fingers. Her scent had definitely changed. Musk and sugar and something elusive I couldn't identify. Was Giza right?

Was Meli my Mate? And denying it had sent me into Heat?

"Cairo…" she whispered. I glanced at her, and she was staring up at me with something like need in those big hazel eyes.

Did she sense it too? Is that what this meant? I watched her, my hand slowing until my thumb was making small circles against her skin.

Yes. I wanted to say it. But there wasn't a need. I knew what she was asking, and I knew my answer.

"Meli." My tongue flicked against my tusk, the sensation shocking. "Can I kiss you again?"

She didn't immediately attack me, but suddenly looked uncertain. "My—my mom's not here."

"I'm not doing it for her." My voice was hoarse. "This is for me."

Meli turned in my lap but didn't pull her arm away from mine. Instead, she peered up at me. "Your eyes are different," she whispered, her free hand rising to touch my jawline.

I shuddered and leaned into her touch—I couldn't help it. "How?" I rasped.

"They're…kinda glowing? Green?"

Swallowing, I wondered how much I could explain, especially when I felt like this. Felt like I'd fly into a million pieces if I wasn't careful. "I feel different," I admitted, unwilling to close my eyes, even though I wanted to focus on the feel of her, because I needed to see her as well.

"I want to kiss you, Cairo."

I groaned in response to her sweet confession. "If you don't," I whispered hoarsely, "I think I'm going to shatter."

Her lips curled upward right before she kissed me. I mean, I say she kissed me, but the kissing was definitely mutual.

That first kiss, the one in the bakery, the one for her family's benefit? That one had been sweet, delicious. This one…?

Fireballs. Explosions. Volcanic eruptions.

Look, I'm not a poet. It was a good kiss, is my point.

Her lips parted under mine with a heartfelt moan, and I felt myself smiling. Fuck, I loved the way she did everything a hundred percent! Her life, her business, this kiss…

Especially this kiss.

I fucking loved this kiss.

Pretty sure it lasted for an hour, maybe two. But at the same time, not nearly long enough. I was beginning to get the impression a lifetime wouldn't be enough.

Meli's arms were around me now, and she was squirming on my lap in the most amazing way. I held her, cradled her, as if she needed protection from the world, as I eagerly tasted every bit I could.

Suddenly she groaned—low and deep—and dropped her head back, breaking the kiss. I froze, wondering what I'd done wrong.

It was only then I realized I was cupping one of her breasts—squeezing it. Had I hurt her? She was breathing hard, panting…just like I was. My fingers flexed just slightly, and she moaned again, squirming against me.

And that's when I realized this scent? This intoxicating scent which had filled my lungs and my chest? That was Meli's arousal. She was as turned on by this kiss as I was.

Mate.

I was an orc male; the scent of her arousal provoked a physical response in me, of course. I wanted to throw her over my shoulder and stomp off to the bedroom, where I'd gnaw her panties off and lick her until she came three or four times.

But…did Meli only see me as a means to an end? To her, was I just a fake boyfriend to keep her mother off her back?

My hand dropped from her breast, and I did my best to get my breathing—and my body's response—under control.

Blinking in confusion, she straightened, obviously doing the same thing.

"I think…" I began slowly. "I think we ought to get out of the house." Or at least, Ishould.

Her eyes were dazed as she slid from my lap. I wanted to hold her—hold her forever. But instead I placed her carefully beside me.

"How—how about Debbie's Diner over on Sea Cucumber?" Was it my imagination, or was her voice strained as well?

"Yeah." I stood, offering her my hand. I shouldn't have, but it had been instinctual. Natural. "They do a good chicken sandwich." I could eat three of them right now.

"Yeah," she repeated.

And when she slid her hand into mine, it felt right.