Sipping from his cup, his housemate turned from the coffee pot. “Good morn—” Inferno spewed coffee all over the floor. “What the herian happened to you?”
“My mating glands have activated.” His happy grin felt twisted.
“Your face and neck have ballooned. You don’t even look like yourself.”
“Isn’t it wonderful? Cassie is my genmate!” The ease of establishing the mind-link had made him fairly certain they were genmates, but it was wonderful to have physical proof. He’d awakened with achy joints, a headache, and extreme tenderness in his face and jaw. A check in the mirror revealed his face and neck on both sides were extremely swollen. Elation had given him a burst of energy, helping to mitigate the odd fatigue.
“Congratulations!” Inferno cocked his horned head. “I thought Veritals only got mild glandular action—if any. I’ve never seen anyone with mating glands as swollen as yours.”
He shrugged and moved to the coffee pot, his joints aching with the movement. “Although reactions usually are mild, they can be extreme. She’s worth it though.” He filled a cup and sipped the brew.
“Of course she is. There isn’t anything we wouldn’t do or go through for a genmate.” Inferno leaned against the opposite counter of the galley style kitchen and studied Psy’s face. “Seriously, though, you look awful.”
“You flatter me.”
Inferno’s red face turned serious. “I’m happy for you but envious, too. I know I need to be patient, but I crave what you have, what Chameleon has, what Wingman has. If we hadn’t escaped the bombardment, all of us would have died, and Shadow still might if he can’t find a genmate. My life isn’t endangered by not mating. I should be grateful for what I do have. I’m being selfish.”
“Not selfish, ’Topian. We were genetically programmed to need a specific mate.” Psy tried to comfort him. “It would be strange if you didn’t yearn for a genmate. We’ve only been on Earth about six months, and half of us have found human genmates—plus some of Mysk’s people have also. It will happen for you, too!”
“But look at me!”
“What about you?”
“I have red skin, horns, and a tail.”
“So?”
“Humans do not have red skin, horns, or tails.”
“So? They don’t change color or fly, either.” Chameleon could do the former and Wingman the latter.
“Many people mistake me for the devil.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a supernatural being they believe is responsible for all the evil and pain in the world. Some humans see me and run away screaming.”
“I had no idea,” Psy said. “People weren’t afraid of you at Kevanne’s lavender festival.”
“Because they thought I wore a costume. How will I meet my genmate if she’s afraid of me?”
“We’ve sometimes felt cursed by the Xenos’ programming which necessitated us finding a genetic match, but it’s also a gift because it means when we do meet our genmate, nothing can keep us apart. Your genmate will be drawn to you regardless of your appearance. She will love you for you.” He paused. “My date with Cassie didn’t go as planned, either. It started off well but ended badly. I feared she’d never see me again. But she texted me. Even though she got mad at me, she contacted me and apologized.
“Genmates have to be together. They just do.”
Chapter Eight
Flowers arrived midmorning—a dozen perfect long-stemmed red roses interspersed with baby’s breath and fern in a beautiful cut-glass vase. Cassie was in the back room when Verna carried them in during a lull in business.
“These just came. Somebody’s sweet on you.” She winked. “Good date, huh?”
She and Verna hadn’t had a chance to talk. Customers had rushed in the instant the store had opened, and the shop had been busy all morning.
“Ya gonna see him again?”
Tonight, she wrote. After work. He’s picking me up here.
Verna’s smile widened. “You can’t go wrong with a hunky alien. Wouldn’t mind a silver-haired alien fox for myself.” She canted her head. “Did your mother like him? Did you tell her he’s an alien?”
I said he’s out of this world and left it at that, she joked.
Verna chuckled.
She didn’t mention her mother had changed her opinion. Verna would disapprove of Rosalie’s disapproval. Somehow, her mother never came out in a positive light, and Cassie felt disloyal. She loved her mother, and Verna was a great boss and friend. She hated being caught in the middle.
She had enough to feel guilty for—overreacting to Psy’s genuine concern and then poisoning her mother against him. Sharing the conversation between her and Psy had been a big mistake. Fiercely protective, Rosalie would take Cassie’s side and would never forgive anyone who’d transgressed against her daughter. Despite the later claim, Cassie was convinced her mother had liked Psy at first.
Now, she didn’t.
It would save a lot of hassle if her mother didn’t know she’d decided to see Psy. Although unlikely, her mother might forbid her to see him “for her own good.” That would lead to a confrontation. As her legal guardian, Rosalie had ultimate say-so, but Cassie was a grown woman and should have the right to see whomever she desired.
For tonight’s date, she’d told her Verna had asked her to help out after hours, getting ready for a big sale. Since her mother avoided Verna and had no interest in antiques, she wouldn’t drop by the shop. Eventually, the truth would have to come out, but she wanted to enjoy the bliss of a new relationship without negative commentary.
The real issue was far bigger than whom she dated.
She did not need someone overseeing her life. The guardianship needed to be severed. She wasn’t sure how to go about it but guessed it involved going to court. What she did know for sure was the process would go smoother if her mother supported rather than opposed the dissolution. However, Rosalie would view Cassie’s bid for independence as a rejection.
Would it be okay if I kept the flowers at the shop? Cassie wrote. I can use them in one of the dining displays up front.
“Of course, but why not bring them home where you can enjoy them?”
I spend more time at work. If she took them home, Rosalie would see them.
The bell over the door rang, followed by a murmuring of female voices.
“Whatever you want.” Verna hurried off to greet the customers.
Cassie fingered a soft petal and inhaled the sweet fragrance and then opened the tiny envelope stuck in the roses. I’m sorry for everything. Please forgive me. – Psy.
There was nothing to forgive; she had wronged him by leaping to erroneous conclusions. Thank goodness he’d forgiven her.
Writing used to be her normal, but telepathy had shown what communication could be. Easy. Fast. She could be as long-winded as she desired. Have a deep discussion. Use her hands when speaking.
What if new medical advances could help her? How bad could the tests be? Maybe to a baby, it had seemed painful, but perhaps to an adult, it would be tolerable?
Cassie tucked the card into her pocket and carried the roses to the floor. Verna conferred with a customer examining a steamer trunk, while a pretty brunette woman and a little girl studied a teacup display. The child picked up a delicate china cup, extended her pinky, and pretended to take a drink.