Tyro: Alien Adoption Agency #3 Page 8

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” the deputy said in a sly way. “Maybe we can do some extra patrolling, help you out. We’d be glad to extend you some extra protection.”

  Phoebe wasn’t born yesterday. That meant he wanted a bribe. But she wasn’t sure if that was an acceptable part of local custom, or if the man was just trying to take advantage of her apparent means.

  Tyro shook his head almost imperceptibly.

  “Oh, we’ll be just fine,” Phoebe said. “We have good neighbors and I know we’ll all keep an eye out for each other. Can I fix you officers a cup of something warm to take with you?”

  “Nah,” the deputy said, looking disappointed. “Be careful now, keep an eye out. There’s a lot of undesirables on this moon.”

  That much was clear. Phoebe resisted the impulse to roll her eyes.

  Instead, she waved to the officers.

  When they were nearly off the dock she turned back to her neighbor. But he was gone, leaving nothing but some quickly drying footprints behind to show he had ever been there.

  “You were amazing,” Tyro said softly. “I can’t believe how well you handled that.”

  “We need friends,” she said simply. “And Atlas needs a community around him. Besides, it’s not right that these people are suffering.”

  “I wish he would let us help,” Tyro said thoughtfully.

  “Maybe there’s something we can do,” Phoebe said.

  “What did you have in mind?” he asked.

  An idea began to form in her mind. But it was kind of far-fetched.

  “We’ll think of something,” she said, not wanting to share it just yet.

  “I’m sure we will,” Tyro told her.

  Suddenly, the memory of what they had been about to do came back to her.

  “I’m sorry we were interrupted,” she said.

  “We’ll try again tonight,” he told her with a grin that set her blood rushing all over again. “For now, we have to get ready to start our day.”

  “Tonight?” she asked, wondering what he meant by that. It was already nighttime.

  “Look at the sky,” he whispered.

  Sure enough, the sun was already rising again, casting a pink glaze over the lake. Morning had snuck up on them while they were dealing with the intruder and the police response.

  “The nights are short here, but so are the days,” he reminded her. “And we have much to do.”

  Just then the door to the yurt opened, releasing the wailing sounds of a hungry baby.

  “We’re coming, Saylin,” Tyro called to the droid.

  She allowed him to take her hand and they headed back to the yurt together.

  Her mind was already distracted with the problem of their struggling neighbors. Her idea was ridiculous, but she really couldn’t think of a better one.

  Phoebe’s father had always told her that sometimes the best way to come up with a solution was to ignore the problem for a while and let your mind work in its own time.

  Maybe if she concentrated on the tasks that needed tending on her own farm, something better would come to her.

  15

  Tyro

  Tyro hummed to himself as he unreeled the spool of hosing for the luxberry circulation system and Phoebe monitored the line for kinks or damage.

  It was a beautiful day to spend with his beautiful mate. The sun was high in the sky and the breeze was cool and fragrant. They had eaten a hearty breakfast and Atlas was spending a happy time being told stories by the droid.

  But he could tell Phoebe wasn’t herself.

  Something was troubling his mate, and Tyro thought it would eat him alive if he couldn’t find some way to ease her worry.

  She is frightened, his dragon whispered. There are prowlers on the docks, and even the police force can’t be trusted. Claim her. Make her feel safe under the promise of our protection.

  The idea was intoxicating, but Tyro would not grab her in the middle of the day and drag her down the dock. He would not claim her in front of the droid and child.

  The dragon chuckled in his mind. It had no such compunctions.

  Claim her. It is all she craves.

  But Tyro wasn’t so sure about that.

  He could taste her longing in the air every time she was near, but there was something else too - a puzzle she was trying to solve.

  “There,” she called to him. “That’s all.”

  He dove into the cool water, laying out the hose around the berries as best he could.

  While they might have better equipment than most of the farmers on the lake, their setup was still less than ideal. He wished they had twice as much hosing, and a bigger pump too.

  The neighbor was right about the quality of the murky water among the berries. They could run the pump day and night and he still wasn’t sure it would clear.

  He emerged and pulled himself onto the dock.

  For a moment, Phoebe gazed in open admiration at his dripping form.

  His dragon preened and purred in his chest.

  Then the furrow reappeared on her brow and he knew she was deep in thought once more.

  “Is that all we have?” she asked him.

  “Yes,” he told her. “That was the last hose. Nothing to do now but let the water circulate for a while. We’ll get the pump going tomorrow and hopefully the water will clear up quickly.”

  She nodded.

  “It’s going to be dark again soon,” he said. “We should get inside to clean up, and then eat something.”

  His words hung in the air, his unspoken question outstanding.

  Will you still accept my claim?

  The alternative was unthinkable. He had never lacked confidence in anything. The whisper of doubt made him feel as if his soul were splitting in two.

  But Tyro wanted to make her happy. He did not want to see her torn in this way.

  They walked down the dock and he held the door open to the yurt for her.

  “Hello, Saylin,” she said. “Hello Atlas.”

  Her voice sounded happier as she greeted them, and Tyro felt a touch of relief.

  “Oh no,” she said, looking at the counter.

  He followed her gaze.

  The camellia plant she had brought with her was wilting in earnest.

  “I’m sorry, Phoebe,” he told her. “Perhaps it needs more sun after all.”

  “It’s not meant for this climate,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t know why I brought it here.”

  He studied the once-shining green leaves and the deflated blossom. She was right, it was a hothouse flower, too delicate for a moon like Clotho.

  Not unlike Phoebe herself.

  He might claim her and even protect her, but she had been raised in gentler circumstances.

  Could he really expect her to thrive on this frontier land with him?

  Was it fair for him to bind her to his beast, when it was his duty to stay here with the child no matter what?

  The dragon roared its frustration in his chest, but Tyro blocked out the sound.

  I have to think. I have to make the right choice for the woman I love.

  16

  Tyro

  As night fell, Tyro sat back in his chair, feeling better after a nourishing meal.

  Phoebe held Atlas in her arms and smiled down at his sweet, dimpled face.

  Tyro could hardly blame her. The child was perfect, down to the last hair on his head.

  “Thank you for cooking,” Phoebe said.

  “It was my pleasure,” he told her honestly. “I know you need time to bond with the baby.”

  “He’s amazing,” Phoebe said, reaching out a tentative hand to stroke Atlas’s fluffy hair.

  Atlas laughed and kicked his little feet.

  “What’s so funny about that?” she asked, lifting him up and blowing air against his small belly, creating a large, undignified sound.

  Atlas shrieked with laughter.

  “What was that?” Tyro asked her, amazed. “How did you
know he would like that?”

  “I’m not sure it has a technical term, but my daddy called that a zurburt,” she said. “Kids love the noise, and also it tickles. It’s kind of the total package.”

  “I will remember it,” Tyro told her. “Terrans are high-spirited.”

  “Sometimes,” she said, shrugging. “We can be moody too.”

  “So your literature would suggest,” he agreed.

  She smiled at that and he saw the warmth in her eyes again, the warmth that had been missing all day.

  “Listen,” she said. “I’d really like to explore the lake.”

  “Of course,” he replied. “I’m sure Saylin can watch Atlas while we explore.”

  “I meant, by myself,” she said gently. “Sometimes I like a little alone time. It helps me think.”

  “Oh,” he replied, surprised and a little saddened.

  Tyro had never wished to do anything alone in his life. And right now, the mate bond crackled and hummed between them. Could she not feel it?

  Maybe she felt it, but did not want it anymore.

  The dragon roared in pain. Who will protect her?

  “Phoebe, it’s dark again, and I’m a little worried about you being out there alone at night,” he said carefully. “We’ve already had some unwanted guests.”

  “I’ll take the droid,” she said, frowning. “And you know I’m a grown woman, right?”

  He knew that all too well.

  “My only wish is to protect you,” he replied indignantly.

  Atlas whimpered, and Phoebe wrapped her arms around him and pressed her lips to his dark locks.

  “Don’t worry, little one,” she crooned. “I’ll be back again in an hour, and we’ll play some more.”

  “Stay close to shore,” he warned. “There are things in the deep water that are far worse than any of our neighbors.”

  “I will,” she assured him.

  Tyro’s heart ached, but he rose and cleared the dishes.

  When he came back to the table, Phoebe was standing with Atlas.

  “Here, I’ll take him,” Tyro said, putting his arms out.

  She handed the child over and headed to the washroom to change into the lake armor.

  Tyro worried about her, but he was also worried about himself. He had no idea how he was going to survive her night swim. He was already going out of his mind, and she hadn’t even left yet.

  By the time she got out of the bathroom he was pacing.

  “See you in a bit,” she told him.

  She was out the door, with the droid in tow, before he could formulate an answer.

  “Now what?” he asked the baby.

  But Atlas did not answer, because he couldn’t talk.

  Tyro paced on, trying to drown out the dragon’s agony long enough to come up with a plan.

  After a few minutes, Atlas began to whimper.

  “Oh, baby,” Tyro said, feeling guilty. “Let’s do something fun. Hey, we can have some beach time. How about that?”

  Tyro liked this idea so much he immediately grabbed the bag he kept packed and ready for trips to the rocky beach. It was dark, but Atlas liked the beach at any time, and the fresh air would tire him out after his meal.

  They headed out of the yurt and into the starry night. The sound of the lake lapping at the shore and the scent of distant wood fires soothed his senses slightly.

  He spread out the blanket and sat down with Atlas, placing a few toys he had made for the boy beside him.

  As usual, Atlas was more interested in Tyro than the toys. He squeaked at him, waving his little fingers around before snatching up a wooden rattle and gazing at it with wide eyes.

  “This is why I’m here,” Tyro said out loud, for his benefit more than Atlas’s. “I’m here for you, sweet boy.”

  Guarding Atlas was the greatest honor of Tyro’s life. It was selfish of him to fret over the mate bond, when his focus should be on the child.

  Reluctantly, he let go of the tiny portion of him that just might have been out here to try to keep an eye on Phoebe.

  She was right. She was an adult.

  And as much as he craved her, she was not yet his mate.

  The chubby little fellow on the blanket, on the other hand, was his charge.

  Tyro vowed to remember that from here on in.

  17

  Tyro

  Tyro was just settling in with Atlas, when an alarm pierced the air from the far side of the yurt.

  “Not again,” he groaned.

  But there was no ignoring it. The whole lake would be up in arms if he didn’t get to the droid and find out what was wrong.

  “It’s probably just another nosy neighbor,” he grumbled to Atlas as he grabbed their things and jogged back to the dock, fighting the rising tide of panic in his chest.

  Phoebe was out there alone.

  What if she had really run into some sort of trouble?

  He couldn’t shift while carrying the little one, but he was nearly there anyway.

  “What is it Saylin?” he called out.

  But the droid did not stop sounding the alarm to explain.

  By the time Tyro reached the yurt the dragon was flashing just under his skin, ready to be released as soon as he handed over the baby.

  The scene when he turned the corner and reached the far side of the yurt was the opposite of what he had imagined.

  Images had flashed in Tyro’s mind of a drowning Phoebe, of thieves, vandals, knives, blood, murky lake water, and every kind of foulness.

  Instead, the droid was in all-out alarm mode over the approach of a well-dressed Terran man.

  “Thank you, Saylin. That’s enough,” Tyro said.

  Instantly, the droid stopped his alarm.

  In the silence that followed, the man turned to Tyro and sniffed.

  He was small, in the way of most Terrans when compared to the people of Ignis-7. His hair was pale, like Phoebe’s, but more like thistle-corn than gold. His eyes were light too, in a way that made Tyro think of lizard-frog skin.

  He wore clothing that made it clear he was not prepared to spend time on a frontier moon - doeskin shoes, and a woven shirt, and breeches that made him look like a Terran politician.

  “I’m here for Phoebe,” the man said in a bored voice.

  “She’s not here right now,” Tyro said, remembering to control his temper as the dragon still simmered near the surface.

  “I’ll wait,” the man said, looking at Tyro as if he expected him to drag out a chair and foot stool for him.

  The dragon seethed in his chest at being treated like a servant, but Tyro managed to stay calm.

  “Why do you want to see her?” he asked as politely as he could.

  “Excuse me,” the man said, in a disgusted tone, as if he didn’t expect a hired guard to ask questions.

  “I asked you why you’re here,” Tyro said again, calmly.

  “Why don’t you do your job and send the droid for her if you aren’t going to go yourself?” the man said. “You know you’re very lucky she’s so soft-hearted. I can’t believe she let you bring your kid to work.”

  The dragon was rising up in Tyro’s chest in spite of his best efforts to tamp it down. It wasn’t too keen on the way this interloper was behaving. A drop into the lake from about a hundred meters up would probably help him remember his manners.

  Footsteps behind him brought with them the deliriously alluring scent of his mate.

  “Oh,” she said suddenly as she turned the corner.

  “Phoebe, do you know this man?” Tyro asked her.

  “Of course she knows me,” the man answered for her. “I’m her fiancé.”

  18

  Phoebe

  Phoebe stood frozen on the dock, dripping and shocked.

  “Phoebe?” Tyro murmured, turning to her. “Is this true?”

  She opened her mouth and closed it again, completely at a loss for words.

  Watching the pain transform his handsome face was like wa
tching a fire consume an art museum. Her corresponding pain was visceral.

  Cash doesn’t love me. And I never loved him. He means so little to me that I never even thought to tell you…

  But the words wouldn’t come.

  “I’ll give you two some privacy,” Tyro said, stalking down the dock.

  “Would you like me to take the child?” Saylin piped up, rolling after him.

  If Tyro leaves the baby here, he might never come back.

  The terrifying idea was enough to rekindle Phoebe’s power of speech.

  “Tyro,” she called to him.

  But he merely handed over Atlas and kept walking.

  “Phoebe, we need to talk.” Cash’s voice was annoyingly smooth.

  But he was right.

  “Fine,” she said. “But I’m not going back with you. You should know that up front.”

  “Why don’t you invite me in?” he suggested. “We can have a cup of tea and discuss things like civilized people.”

  She wavered. They really did need to talk. And doing it inside, over a cup of hot tea, sounded infinitely better than standing on a cold dock while she was soaking wet.

  “I brought tea from home,” he said, patting his pocket, which presumably held a pouch of her favorite flower tea. He might not love her, but he knew her well.

  “Fine,” she sighed. “But don’t get any big ideas.”

  He nodded and gave her his signature half-smile.

  That cute look might work on the widow Jones, but it will get you nowhere with me.

  She headed inside and put the kettle on the warmer.

  When she turned around, he had already closed the door behind him and sat at the kitchen counter. He pulled the pouch from his pocket and sure enough, the delicate scent of jasmine greeted her.

  Phoebe prepared their cups and waited for the water to simmer.

  “Your father misses you,” Cash said, breaking the silence with the four words most capable of also breaking her heart.

  “I miss him too,” she admitted.