Atlas: Arkadian Alien Mail Order Brides #2 Read online

  Ryk got out of his craft, slamming the self-seal door in a way that made Atlas want to wince. It was a high-performing machine, but delicate. Leave it to Ryk to buy the expensive toy without respecting it.

  “No, asshole,” Ryk said. “The paving company needs to know how much material they’re going to need to fill it in next week.”

  Atlas felt his blood boil.

  Ryk released a BFF drone from his wrist, ostensibly to help him with measurements. The small origami drone unfolded and flittered about, taking snapshots and reciting figures.

  Atlas was enjoying a vision of snatching it out of the air with his towel and smashing it soundly against Ryk’s stupid haircut when that enchanting Terran woman came back to join them.

  “I see you have a new assistant,” Ryk said, accentuating the word just enough to make it clear he figured Atlas was fucking her.

  The small woman’s eyes went wide, but remarkably stayed the same dark shade.

  “Actually, this is my new fiancée,” Atlas said, unable to resist putting his awful cousin in his place.

  He wrapped his arm around her, and the resulting wave of lust caused him to immediately forget all of the details, including her name. The surge of emotion made him wonder how he could even remember his own.

  “This is my cousin, Rykkie,” he told her, praying her name would come to him while he spoke. “Rykkie, this is… my little pussycat. Say hello, pet.”

  Gods of the rings, he was a terrible liar. And now she had two terrible nicknames.

  But the Terran seemed to think it was hilarious. Her lips were pressed together to restrain what he imagined would have been a mischievous grin. Her eyes danced, and a dimple appeared on her right cheek.

  “I’m Valerie,” she said, offering her hand. “It’s lovely to meet you, Rykkie.”

  Valerie…

  How could he have forgotten? The name sounded like poetry rolling off her lovely little tongue.

  “The name is Ryk,” he said, not taking her hand. “And are you kidding me with this bullshit? Is this supposed to be some kind of joke?”

  “I assure you it is not,” Atlas told him solemnly. “We are madly in love.”

  Noticing that Ryk’s drone was still recording everything, he decided to give his cousin something to mourn over when he got home and replayed the footage, as he undoubtedly would.

  Atlas tugged Valerie closer and bent to press his lips to hers in a showy display of public affection.

  Her body yielded to his instantly, and he felt a jolt of possessiveness go through him.

  The moment his mouth touched hers he forgot his cousin, the camera, the house and the pool.

  Her mouth was warm and soft, and she tasted like honey. Though he had thought she was physically small, her body melded to his perfectly, as if she were the missing piece that completed a puzzle he didn’t know he’d been working on.

  He thumbed open her jaw, needing to taste her tongue, to breach her and be inside her any way he could.

  Valerie moaned lightly as his tongue danced with hers.

  “Oh, for the sake of the gods, get a room,” Ryk yelled, storming off. “And by the way, it’s clear she’s just one of those desperate mail order brides from the underworld. We’ll see what the trustee says about this.”

  But the words had no meaning to Atlas, his mind and body were lost in Valerie’s kiss.

  3

  Valerie

  Valerie’s senses were reeling. Atlas’s big hands clutched her shoulders, his warmth radiating through her, as his intoxicating taste filled her mouth. She was melting like ice cream on a summer day, and she wasn’t sure how she would ever find her own shape again.

  But when Ryk’s red craft engine started up, she remembered reality.

  Atlas wasn’t in love with her, and this wasn’t even a real kiss.

  She cursed her traitorous mouth for responding to his, mustered all her resolve, and did the impossible, pulling back even as her body begged for more contact with his.

  “I think he’s gone,” she gasped, turning away so that Atlas couldn’t see her pink cheeks.

  She pretended to smooth down her dress and realized that her hardened nipples were clearly visible through the silky material.

  Calm down, Valerie, she begged herself. Please calm down.

  “Come on,” Atlas said.

  His voice was stern and deep now.

  He must be furious with her for kissing him like that. He had just wanted to put on a show, and she was pressing herself to him and moaning like she worked on a pleasure ship.

  She grabbed her suitcase and followed him meekly onto the floating verandas, toward the back door of the house.

  His home honestly looked like the libraries they had learned about back at the agency. The walls were sleek and tall, but the only ornamentation was those columns in front.

  For one instant she allowed herself to fantasize that it was actually full of books, and that they were getting married for real. What if she was getting ready to show her sisters around their new home?

  There was plenty of room for a gigantic family in this house, that much was evident before she even stepped inside.

  Atlas stalked in the back doors, not even holding them open for her to go first, as she had learned was customary in Upper Arkadia.

  Maybe he wasn’t treating her like a lady since he didn’t want to encourage her after that crazy kiss.

  Mortification threatened to immobilize her, but she forced herself to keep walking.

  It doesn’t matter what he thinks of me. Only that he honors our deal.

  She stepped inside and almost shrank back.

  While Atlas himself struck her as playful and light-hearted, his house could only be described as imposing.

  Dark stained wood floors were uninterrupted by the warmth of carpets or coverings of any kind. Handsome woodwork was the only decor on the plain white walls, besides a few hologram portraits of ancestors wearing disapproving expressions.

  Floating wood benches and hung copper tables were the only furnishings. Dark curtains covered the windows so that a handful of dim ceiling globes provided the only light. The sole source of color and life came from a large crystal vase full of cheerful pink flowers on the entry table. It seemed oddly out of place, and she assumed it was just something one of the servants freshened up every day out of duty.

  Valerie couldn’t picture her happy family gathering here. As a matter of fact, she found it difficult to picture anything at all except the stark lines and shadows of the endless rooms that branched off from the foyer.

  “This way,” Atlas said, heading for the dark staircase.

  She followed him, her footsteps echoing until she joined him on the stairs.

  They climbed to the second floor in silence. Atlas turned left and walked until he reached the end of the corridor.

  “These are your rooms,” he said, opening the last door.

  She followed him inside and took it all in.

  The bedroom was spacious, with the same wood floor and white walls as the rest of the house. But a large bank of windows allowed a pretty view over the rear lawn.

  “The bathroom is in there,” he told her, pointing to one of two doors that flanked a beautiful built-in bookcase that held no books. “And the dressing room is there,” he said as he pointed to the other.

  “Thank you,” she said, unable to believe that all this space would be hers. “Your house is very… impressive.”

  “Thank you,” he told her, his face softening.

  “I’m so sorry for any… tension I caused between us earlier,” she told him sincerely, not quite sure how to politely apologize for kissing him like a cat in heat.

  Suddenly, she had a great idea.

  “I hope you’ll let me make it up to you,” she said. “Everything about this week is probably going to be intense. But I’ve got just the thing to help you feel better, and get rid of all that stress.”

  He gave her a slow smile and she fel
t her body try to respond to his again.

  Down, girl, she warned herself.

  “Why don’t you go shower or whatever you normally do after your swim, and meet me in the kitchen,” she offered. “Will it be easy to find?”

  His eyebrows went up slightly.

  “Sure, pussycat,” he said, nodding. “It’s the only one with a stove.”

  “I’m sure I’ll find it,” she said, rolling her eyes and glad they were back to playfulness again. “Get out of here.”

  He grinned and headed out.

  She allowed herself to stand there smiling after him like a dope for exactly ten seconds. Then she forced herself to get to work unpacking.

  Not that there was much to it. She owned all of about five items. She sincerely hoped there was a wardrobe printer in that dressing room, and not an antique sewing machine.

  She hummed as she opened her case and pulled out her clothing.

  Happily, the wardrobe closet did have a printer as well as ample empty shelves and racks.

  A few minutes later, she was unpacking her most prized possession, a beautiful tea set in its own small wooden box - the inspiration for her current plan.

  She removed her shoes and padded downstairs quietly. She hated the sound of her echoing footsteps on the way up, and besides, Atlas would probably be happy to keep soled shoes off his polished floors.

  The first-floor rooms all spilled into each other. There was a lounge with a simple copper bar, an office overlooking the front lawn, and even a whole room with nothing in it but an old-fashioned comm system.

  Valerie’s grandfather would have loved that. He told endless stories about the work he’d done with the comms division in the great war that had cemented the alliance between the Terrans and the Arkadians.

  She continued down the main corridor until she reached the end, where it opened into a massive dining room and a door to what had to be the kitchen.

  She was shocked when she opened the doors. While the space itself had the same ancient wood and copper tones as the rest of the house, there were no dark curtains on the windows here, and the difference was palpable. Soft light burnished the copper counters and made the pale walls glow. Banks of windows on two walls revealed a medley of greenery and blossoms outside, as well as the bright, sparkling blue of the swimming pool.

  “This is my favorite room in the house,” Valerie decided out loud.

  She sat on a floating bench and began to lay out her tea things on the great big slab of polished hanging wood that served as the kitchen table. Its surface was imperfect, with small dents and scratches between the faded rings where cups of hot beverages had been placed in the past.

  Valerie felt oddly reassured by the hard evidence that not every corner of the house had been treated like a museum.

  She hoped Atlas would enjoy her surprise. The idea of pleasing him filled her with more satisfaction than she cared to admit.

  4

  Atlas

  Atlas rushed through his shower, eager to get back to Valerie.

  I have just the thing to help you feel better and get rid of all that stress.

  Her words played out over and over again in his head. Her soft polite tone teasing his senses just as much as the words she had spoken.

  These mail order brides obviously meant business. The way she had made her offer sounded almost formal, like she had practiced offering pleasure to men.

  The agency certainly hadn’t printed that in their glossy brochure.

  He wondered if the agency had also trained her in how to do it. Her confidence suggested that must be the case.

  His conscience tugged at him suddenly, an unfamiliar sensation.

  He’d been angry with himself for getting lost in her kiss earlier. She had pulled back the instant Ryk pulled away, as if she felt nothing.

  And maybe she didn’t feel anything.

  Was she only offering herself because he had been storming around the house and she thought it would smooth things over? Or worse, because she thought she had to?

  I have just the thing to help you feel better and get rid of all that stress.

  Gods of the rings.

  “She offered,” he muttered to himself, knowing he was not strong enough to resist her. “And I am stressed out.”

  He grabbed a navy-blue silk robe from his closet. His ex-girlfriend always told him to wear blue to bring out his eyes. That bit of advice was the only favor she’d ever done him.

  He pulled it on and headed downstairs. He’d already dismissed the servants so they could have privacy, so he knew it was only the two of them in the house.

  The idea that she wanted him in the kitchen was mysterious, which somehow made the request even more compelling. What could she possibly have in mind?

  By the time he pushed open the door from the dining room his cock was rigid steel, and he was ready to push her up against the counter and take her once just to get the edge off before she did whatever kinky thing she had planned.

  “Atlas,” she said in a low, pleased voice.

  She was sitting at the kitchen table, fully dressed, with a glass pot of boiling water and a bunch of cups and dried leaves and…

  “Come have some tea,” she said. “It will make you feel much better.”

  A wave of bitter disappointment washed over him.

  “Atlas?” she said after a moment.

  “Yes,” he replied, not moving.

  “Don’t you like tea?” she asked. “I have biscuits, too.”

  He began to laugh. The whole thing was so ridiculous. Of course she was talking about tea. This woman was so damned proper that there was no way she would have been offering him sex stuff.

  “Atlas?” she repeated, her brow furrowed.

  “Sorry, sorry,” he said, heading over to sit down. “Sure, I like tea. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  She smiled up at him, and leaned back so that he could see everything that was on the table.

  There were small wooden bowls filled with dried leaves, a clay cup, a painted brass pot, a flowery ceramic dish with a lid, perfectly round-ended silver spoons, and more.

  “The teas I chose are perfect for calming,” she explained. “Lemon, chamomile, lavender, and mint.”

  He nodded, looking over the dried leaves and all the assorted vessels. There was something comforting about all of this mismatched stuff.

  “Is this a Lower Arkadian thing?” he asked.

  “No,” she said, smiling. “It’s a Terran thing, from Old Earth. Tea was important in nearly every ancient culture. Do you see the little clay cup?”

  She picked it up and showed it to him.

  It had a mended crack, but it was otherwise perfect, and there was something oddly satisfying about it.

  “This was from the culture of Old Japan,” she told him. “The most famous culture for tea.”

  “It’s very beautiful,” he said, nodding.

  That earned him a big smile.

  “And this is from India,” she went on, holding up the metal pot with the intricate painted design. “In India, delicious spices were added to the tea, like cardamom,” she told him proudly. “Their chai was adopted by other cultures too. Though the people of the Americas added so much milk and sugar to it that it might not have been recognizable.”

  “What’s that?” he asked, pointing to the flowery little ceramic container with the chipped lid.

  “That’s a sugar bowl from Old England,” she told him. “The English liked to put milk in their tea, as well as lumps of sugar. They also ate biscuits with it. And that’s what we’re going to do.”

  “Okay then, let’s do it,” he told her.

  “First, you need to choose your tea,” she told him.

  “Which one is which?” he asked.

  “Tea should be experienced with all the senses,” she replied. “Why don’t you smell them and see which one speaks to you?”

  He quirked an eyebrow at her, but she merely waited.

  Shruggin
g, he picked up the wooden bowl closest to him and brought it to his face.

  He was instantly transported to childhood and his grandmother making tea in this very kitchen. He was sitting on the chair, his legs swinging, encased in flannel pajamas.

  “What is this?” he demanded. “I know this one.”

  “That’s chamomile,” Valerie told him.

  “My grandmother made this for me,” he said.

  “Is it a happy memory?” she asked.

  “Very happy,” he told her, smiling at the thought. “That was when my grandfather was still alive. They lived here, but I got to have sleepovers. I had this tea the first time I slept over by myself. I was scared, and my grandmother said it would help me sleep.”

  “Was she right?” Valerie asked.

  “Probably,” he said. “We brought our tea into the back parlor, and they sat me right between them to watch the fire while we drank it. That’s the last thing I remember, so it must have worked.”

  She nodded, smiling.

  “I think I’ll have this one,” he told her. “I’ll try the others another day.”

  She nodded and he watched as she began to prepare the tea, placing it in a bright metal strainer and pouring the hot water over it very slowly, into the metal pot.

  The purr of the water and the slight hiss as it met the leaves was pleasant in the otherwise silent house.

  They both watched as the water hit the pot. The fragrance of the tea wafted through the air and Atlas felt almost weepy with the memory of his grandfather.

  Valerie lowered the strainer into the pot once it was full.

  “It takes about three minutes to steep black tea, but herbal teas like chamomile can steep for five without getting bitter,” she explained.

  “This is a passion for you,” he guessed.

  “This is my dream,” she told him with a self-deprecating smile. “I love Old Terran history, and I love tea. If I could open a tea shop of my own, then maybe I could share that love with others.”