Odin: Alien Adoption Agency #5 Read online

  “We have indeed,” he replied.

  “Indeed,” added Crispin, offering his arm, which Odin dutifully grasped.

  “And that’s the wee one,” Crispin said, smiling at Colton, his blue eyes twinkling.

  “It is,” Liberty said proudly, showing off her son.

  “How is the herd?” Odin asked.

  “The flock is fine,” Raspin replied, as his brother made a series of funny faces for Colton. “Seventeen head, every one of them plump, with a fine coat. They’ll do you well.”

  “And the set up?” Odin asked.

  “Well enough,” Raspin allowed. “You’ll want to upgrade the water troughs in time, number three is a little leaky, so keep an eye on it. And the shed roof could use a fresh layer of moss.”

  “Noted,” Odin said.

  “So you work here on the farm?” Liberty asked Crispin.

  He stopped crossing his eyes at Colton and straightened.

  “We’re hired hands,” he said, brushing his hands off on his jeans. “We work independently.”

  “Well I appreciate what you’re doing here,” Liberty told him.

  “Aw, shucks, madam,” Crispin replied, literally kicking the dirt at his feet.

  Embarrassed, Liberty looked away, just in time to see Odin narrow his eyes.

  Was he… jealous?

  “The house is just this way, madam,” Raspin said politely, with a slight bow. “Do you need us to show you around?”

  She was about to reply when Odin stepped between them.

  “We can take it from here,” he said firmly.

  “Alright then,” Raspin said. “You can call on us any time you’re going to be away and need hands.”

  “Or anytime you need a babysitter,” Crispin added. “My oldest, Cora, is dying to get her hands on a babysitting gig. She’s very skilled. She has more certifications than a Baltrak lawyer.”

  “That she does,” Raspin agreed.

  “We’re no more than a transmission away,” Crispin added, giving Liberty a wink.

  “Wait, you’re leaving?” she asked.

  “This is your farm, little lady,” Crispin said. “You don’t need us.”

  She gazed out over the hillside in horror.

  Liberty had downloaded a book on agriculture, but she had no actual experience or feel for it. She couldn’t even keep a potted figmax alive on a temperature-controlled vessel.

  With her lack of knowledge and the baby to care for, Liberty was certain to wreck this farm inside a week.

  But with the limited stipend she received for the baby’s care, she probably couldn’t afford to keep two hired hands on for long. Maybe not even as long as they had been here already…

  She looked to Odin for help, but he was bidding the brothers farewell.

  9

  Odin

  Odin pulled a small sack of credits from his pocket and tossed it to Raspin.

  The dark-haired brother caught it and slid it into his pocket where it landed with a satisfying clink.

  “Thank you, friend,” he said, nodding to Odin. “I think our business is complete.”

  Odin wasn’t sure why he’d felt compelled to pay for their services. He knew Liberty came from money, but his instinct to take care of mate and whelp had overcome his good sense.

  He nodded farewell to the men and turned back to Liberty, ready to explore the property together. He was looking forward to seeing what she thought of the house and looking over the grounds and the flock. He thought she would be excited as well.

  But Liberty was staring out over the mountains, an inscrutable expression on her face.

  “Everything okay?” he asked, wondering if she was thinking of her husband.

  “Bring luck on Lachesis,” Crispin called back to her.

  She turned and waved to him sadly.

  A wave of jealousy hit Odin’s chest like a sack of battle helms and he nearly staggered backward. He wasn’t even sure if he was jealous of the dead husband, jealous of the living farmhand, or both. And he knew on some level that it was not a reasonable reaction, but the pull of the mate bond didn’t care.

  “I downloaded a book on frontier farming,” Liberty said in a soft, worried voice. “But I can’t even maintain a houseplant. And this place is so… different.”

  “Delete the book,” Odin told her, relieved that she was only worried about the farm.

  “What?” she asked, looking horrified.

  “There’s going to be a learning curve here, that’s all,” he told her. “But you’re not going to solve it with your nose in a book. Delete it and focus on what’s in front of you.”

  “So you’re a farming expert?” she asked.

  He didn’t like her sarcasm. The Invicta were noble warriors. They did not rely on sarcasm to make their points.

  Fury tried to rise in his blood.

  Just as quickly, the dragon cooled it.

  Mate, he whispered in Odin’s ear, sending a swirl of emotions through him so that for a moment he could not reply.

  “I was quartered on a farmstead for some time,” he told her when he had collected himself. “And I’ve traveled a lot. We are both capable. I know we can figure it out, if we’re paying attention.”

  She looked like she was planning to argue with him, but Colton made a plaintive, mewling sound that told Odin he was about to have a full out fit.

  “Let’s table this conversation until we get Colton fed,” he suggested.

  “Yes,” Liberty said, with an alarmed expression.

  At least they agreed on something.

  He smiled and they headed in the direction of the house together. A gentle breeze ruffled their clothing and seemed to distract Colton from his anxious crying.

  It was pleasant here. The thought floated into his mind as softly as the breeze.

  Odin allowed himself to pretend for a moment that they were a family - himself, his mate, and their child, walking to their new home on a beautiful afternoon.

  The fantasy made him almost giddy with happiness.

  Then he remembered Adyxx.

  Adyxx would never have a mate and child. He would never have a home of his own.

  The afternoon lost its luster and Odin focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

  This place might have all the trappings of happiness. But Odin would never taste it.

  10

  Liberty

  Liberty’s breath caught in her throat as she took in her new home.

  In her mind, a farmhouse was a squared-off structure, covered in lumpy stucco - unadorned except for wood shutters.

  This house was like nothing she had ever seen before. Rough carved stones formed the front wall, with its arched wooden door, glass windows, and four flower boxes overflowing with lush plantings.

  A moss-covered roof overhung the entry to form a small front porch. The rest of the dwelling was the mountain itself, as if someone had carved it right out of the hillside.

  “This is incredible,” she murmured.

  “It’s a hillside home,” Odin explained. “It will be naturally cool in the summertime. And in the winter, we’ll use a wood stove, which vents out on the mountaintop.

  He stepped in front of her to open the door.

  She had expected a dark space with a low ceiling, something cave-like and cozy.

  But the many windows in the front wall filled the large living room with light, and its ceiling was vaulted, giving the hillside house an airy feel.

  “Amazing,” she said, her shoes ringing out on the wood plank floor as she inspected the pottery tiles surrounding the wood stove.

  Odin was silent as she explored the open living space. She wondered if he approved of the home. But she was too delighted to worry about it.

  The kitchen was well-stocked and spacious, with a thick slab of wood as the countertop. Soft lighting in the ceilings seemed to sense her and follow her as she walked. She wondered if there were solar cells on that mountaintop as well as the stove vent.
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  Despite the glaring differences, the huge space honestly reminded her of her childhood home. Her parents had owned a massive edifice in one of the practically identical upper-class developments on Terra-6.

  But instead of feeling cold and cavernous like her parents’ house, this place was warm and quirky with art tiles, colorful rag rugs, and simple wooden furnishings.

  Liberty found that she felt instantly at home.

  “What do you think?” Odin asked, his voice lacking all expression.

  “I love it,” she told him. “Don’t you?”

  “I like it too,” he told her, his voice warmer now.

  “Did you think I wouldn’t like it?” she asked, turning to him.

  “I thought you might be used to more elegant surroundings,” he said, shrugging without making eye contact.

  “Why would you think that?” she asked. She wore simple clothing, she had no jewelry. She hadn’t told him about her past.

  He looked a little embarrassed and ran his hand through his hair, as if he were trying to compose his thoughts.

  His hair…

  “It’s my hair, isn’t it?” she asked, instinctively putting her hands to her head as if she could cover it. “I still don’t know why my parents chose to do this. I’ve tried to get other coloring, but nothing really hides it.”

  “It’s lovely,” he told her. “Why would you hide it?”

  “Because I’m not that person anymore,” she said.

  “What person?”

  “The person whose parents define me,” she said. “The person who can only see the world from that closed-minded position of privilege.”

  “So you’re not close with your parents?” he asked.

  “Not since they disowned me for marrying beneath my station,” she said.

  “Beneath your station?” he echoed in disbelief.

  “My husband was a doctor,” she told him. “But he was in the Physician’s Brigade, using his gifts to help everyone in the system - not just the ones who could afford high end care and genetic modifications.”

  “That’s very noble,” Odin said.

  She glanced up at him.

  He wasn’t being sarcastic. As a matter of fact, she didn’t think he’d made a single sarcastic remark since she’d met him.

  “He was noble,” she said, her voice breaking on the word.

  “It makes me furious,” Odin said.

  She smiled at him.

  “Is that the wrong reaction?” he asked. “I know I can be kind of intense sometimes. But it steams me up that the only people who die young seem to be the best ones.”

  “It makes me furious too,” she admitted. “Livid, actually. People don’t expect that. They expect me to be sad all the time. They say they’re sorry.”

  “Is that why you didn’t tell me at first?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “Honestly, it’s part of why I enjoy traveling. Strangers don’t know, so they don’t look at me with all that weird sympathy.”

  Colton whimpered in her arms, and she remembered why they had come inside in the first place.

  “I’m sorry, buddy,” she told him. “Let’s get you changed and fed.”

  Odin had warmed up a cell of milk before she had Colton’s diaper changed.

  “Look at you, baby,” she told the little one. “You’ve got a whole team.”

  He latched onto the cell the moment she offered it to him, and for a long time she watched him eat, his little jaw working hard, eyelashes kissing his chubby cheeks.

  “He eats like you’re going to take it away,” Odin said softly.

  “Has he ever not had enough?” she asked worriedly.

  “No,” Odin chuckled. “He’s been in my care since he came out of his pod and he has never wanted for anything. At least not for more than a minute or two.”

  The pride in the big warrior’s voice was evident. And it wasn’t the pride of a protector, or even a guardian.

  That was paternal pride, real and true.

  She looked up at Odin, who was studying his son’s little face with a tenderness she hadn’t seen before.

  “He’s so lucky to have you,” she murmured.

  “No, I’m the lucky one,” Odin said, his voice soft and awed. “You probably won’t believe this, but he calms me. I had a real temper before he came along.”

  “You did?” she managed to reply without smiling.

  Odin nodded. “I had to learn patience because of the boy.”

  “He’s a very special baby,” Liberty decided, studying the little face. “We are all very lucky.”

  Colton wiggled as if he was uncomfortable with the praise.

  “You need to burp,” Odin told him solemnly.

  He reached for the baby and Liberty surrendered him.

  Colton looked so small in his father’s arms. She watched as Odin held the little one over his forearm and rubbed the spot between his tiny shoulder blades. The baby’s sweet little brow was furrowed with discomfort.

  Suddenly, a burp so loud it sounded almost like a rifle shot emitted from the adorable little face.

  “Goodness,” Liberty exclaimed.

  Odin laughed a deep, hearty laugh.

  “Is he okay?” she asked.

  “Of course,” he chuckled. “He’s probably feeling great. Ready for a nice walk.”

  “A walk?”

  “You want to see your farm, don’t you?” he asked.

  My farm…

  “I just… can’t believe this is home,” she admitted. “I’ve been traveling a long time. It will be good to set down roots again.”

  “Good pun,” he said.

  “Pun?” she echoed.

  “The farm produces more than just wool,” he told her. “There are fruit trees too. And tubers.”

  “Ah, root vegetables,” she smiled. “Putting down roots. funny. Was that your first dad joke?”

  “I do not make light of your father,” he said, sounding confused and slightly offended.

  “No, no, a dad joke doesn’t mean you’re joking about someone’s dad,” she explained. “Dad jokes are jokes a dad would make. You know, not that funny.”

  “I do not know what jokes a dad would make,” he said, sounding mystified. “Should we ask one?”

  He was serious. He had never heard of dad jokes. And worse still, he was clearly in denial about his relationship with Colton.

  “Never mind,” she said, deciding the Inner Ring wasn’t built in a day. “Let’s go see our farm.”

  He shrugged, and they set out into the last of the murky sunlight, following a well-worn footpath past the side of their hillside home.

  On their right stood an orchard of slender trees, their branches bending under the weight of more of those lantern-like yellow globes of fruit. The rows of trees went halfway up the crest of the next hill. A tiny stream snaked its way between the lower trees.

  “What an odd little creek,” Liberty observed.

  “I think it’s drainage,” Odin said. “The trees on the hillside have natural drainage. The ones down here need a hand.”

  “So they grow better up a sheer mountainside?” she asked.

  “Lots of things do,” he told her. “And here there’s more rain than sunshine, so drainage will be an important part of our work. For the sheep too.”

  “How so?” she asked.

  “If their pastures get too swampy, they can get fungal issues with their hooves,” he said.

  “Swamp foot,” Liberty said excitedly. “I read about that in the farming book. And you told me that book was a distraction.”

  “What’s the cure for swamp foot?” Odin asked.

  “You make a paste of chamomile and floarra petal,” Liberty said proudly, glad she had some basic knowledge. “Soak the affected hooves for two hours per day and massage with a metal loop.”

  “You seem very confident about that,” Odin said.

  “Any reason I shouldn’t be?” she asked, winking at him.

>   He rolled his eyes.

  “What?” she demanded. “You’re just intimidated because I finally knew something you didn’t.”

  “First of all, you can’t get chamomile here,” he said. “It requires far more sunlight.”

  “I’ll import it,” she decided.

  “At two thousand credits an ounce, you might,” he said. “But I doubt you’d get enough to soak a whole flock’s hooves in.”

  She frowned.

  “Also, does it say anything about how you’re supposed to get a sheep to hold still for two hours per day while soaking its hooves?” he asked.

  “Um,” she said, starting to see his point.

  “You might get a gentle stag-mare to hold still and soak a hoof or two while you groom her and talk to her,” he said. “She might even let you clean a sore hoof with your bare hands, but never a metal loop. And a flock of half-wild mountain sheep aren’t going to stand for any of it.”

  “Okay, okay. What’s the cure for swamp foot?” she asked him in surrender.

  “Proper drainage,” he told her. “Mountain sheep can seldom be saved from swamp foot, so the closest thing to a remedy is not letting them get it in the first place.”

  “That’s awful,” she breathed.

  “It’s honest,” he told her. “And honesty is what you need right now. Look up ahead.”

  Something was barreling toward them, long fur lifting in the wind it kicked up with its speed. Its legs were too much of a blur to count, but there were definitely more than four of them.

  Liberty froze in place, too scared to breathe.

  11

  Odin

  Odin grinned at the tree-hound. He had always loved the things with their floppy fur and enthusiastic outlook.

  He was so busy anticipating his meeting with the furry creature that he didn’t see Liberty until it was too late.

  She flew at him, elbow first as if to force him off the path, a look of pure terror on her face.

  “What the—?” he began.

  “It’s coming right for us,” she hissed, bouncing off him, but coming back instantly to wrap herself protectively around Colton’s little body, which was currently cradled in Odin’s arms.