The Uncertain Scientist: The Lost Planet Series, Book Four, page 4
She shakes her head morosely. “Nothing. Sayer’s been working day and night, but there hasn’t been another transmission that he’s detected. I practically live in this room now.” Molly gives herself a little shake and turns deliberately away from the screens. Her smile brightens. “I’m glad you came to find me. I didn’t mean to miss our meeting today.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say gruffly.
Molly pushes to her feet and crosses the room to me. She ignores it when I stiffen and takes my hand instead. “Now that you’re out and about, why don’t I give you a tour of the place? It’ll do both you and the baby well to get some air, walk around. Truth be told, it would be good for me, too. Draven’s been begging me to take some time away from monitoring the comm lines.”
She continues to chatter as she pulls me from the room and down the hall. I let her because I can still sense the sadness behind her eyes, and it wouldn’t hurt to learn more about the facility…and the people inside it.
Molly wraps her arm around mine and tells me about each of the rooms, and their uses. She points out the quarters for each of the aliens and their mates and I file away the information for future reference. You never know when something could be useful. She’s babbling on about how Aria and Breccan met when I catch a movement out of the corner of my eye.
A compartment door slides open. Two tall figures are illuminated by the light behind them. My brain takes a moment to place names to faces to figure out who is who due to shock.
Sayer…and Jareth.
And they’re much too close to simply be friends.
4
Jareth
I stroke my claw along Sayer’s jaw, reveling in the sharp angle of the bone. It’s my favorite part of him. I often lick him there because it gets him achingly hard for me in the blink of an eye. I’m about to do just that—lick him—when I feel someone’s stare on me.
Lifting my gaze, I lock eyes with Grace’s dark gray ones.
Instantly, fury rises up inside of me. The need to protect my mate from shame and ridicule, overwhelming. My sub-bones begin popping one by one, alerting Sayer to what’s grabbed my attention.
“Rekk,” he utters under his breath.
“If she tells…” I don’t have to finish that statement. Sayer knows. If she tells, Breccan will lose his mind. We’ll both be locked in a reform cell because of choices the other morts won’t understand.
Sayer is a part of me.
The part inside me that beats with life and love and happiness.
They’ll say we’re diseased. Clearly mad with The Rades. No mort will understand that, despite being unable to reproduce, we have chosen to be mates.
“Grace,” I bark out, stalking over to the doorway, ignoring Sayer’s hissed warning.
She straightens her spine, wiping the look of shock off her face. Her normal disgust for me and my kind transforms what would normally be attractive features.
“Jareth.” She meets my glare with one of her own.
Molly frowns my way in confusion.
“Draven was looking for you and he seemed flustered,” I lie, sending her on her way without a glance back.
“Grace,” Sayer says calmly from beside me. “Come sit with us.”
When I growl in protest, it seems to please Grace because she nods. With her hands on her protruding stomach, she waddles our way, her eyes challenging me.
“I was just coming to see you,” she tells Sayer, smirking at me as she passes.
Sayer pins me with a hard stare before smiling at her. “You’re always welcome here.”
The door closes behind her, locking the three of us inside. As soon as we’re alone, she opens her mouth.
“I thought you hated me because you’re an evil alien,” she says, shaking her nog. “But I was wrong.” She points at Sayer. “And you? I thought you were some gentleman caught in the crossfire of what your people did to me. Again, I was wrong.” She crosses her arms over her breasts, making them nearly spill from her top. “Turns out, Jareth, you hate me because you’re in love with Sayer. And you, Sayer, don’t want me because you’re in love with Jareth.”
A growl rumbles through me. “You speak dangerous words, female.”
“So, it is a secret,” she says, an evil grin turning her lips up.
“They won’t understand,” Sayer explains, his brows pulling together sadly.
Her cold exterior softens a bit and she sniffs the air. “What’s that smell?”
I lift my arm and sniff my pit. Nothing smells out of the ordinary.
Sayer’s jaw clenches. “I smell it, too.” He dips his nog in a guilty way—a way I remember from when we were mortlings and he’d get caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing.
Sucking in a deep breath, I attempt to smell whatever it is they both seem to notice. Again, nothing.
“It’s you,” Grace utters, pointing at Sayer. “Come here.”
As though she has a rope around his neck and holds the other end, she draws him to her with one simple command. Irritation blooms inside my gut like a hagbud. Poisonous and thorny and black.
She touches his shoulder and leans in, her nose brushing against the very jawline I was just caressing. Possessiveness rushes through my veins hot and furious. He closes his eyes and his nostrils flare as he inhales her.
What. The. Rekk?
Jealousy spikes its way through me, and I have to refrain from tearing the female from my mate. He doesn’t seem to be harmed by her. In fact, he seems pleased to have her near.
“Pheromones,” she mutters, tilting her head up. “You’re secreting pheromones.”
“What is pheromones?” I demand. “Sayer is not sick. We morts are regularly checked for illness.”
She doesn’t step away from him but turns her nog to look at me. “I’m a scientist—er, was—and a pheromone is something the body secretes that can trigger a response in the same species. And apparently, different species.”
I cock my nog in confusion. Sayer’s eyes are still closed. He looks like he does when he’s found pleasure. Relaxed, satiated, happy. My heart squeezes in my chest, tight with worry.
I can’t lose Sayer to…to this alien.
As though my thoughts have entered his nog, he opens his eyes. In his stare, I find confusion and fear flickering there.
“I’ll need to speak with Avrell…” She trails off and frowns. “Never mind.”
Sayer looks down at her, his hand gently gripping her waist. She doesn’t pull away, which has my mind running rampant with wild thoughts.
“What is it?” he asks. “Are you afraid of Avrell? I could go with you.”
“We could go with you,” I growl.
He winces at my words and shakes his nog as if to clear it. “We could go with you.”
She looks down at her stomach and palms the large swell. “I don’t really want to talk to him because of what he did, but this is interesting. I’m a scientist above all, and this is going to drive me bananas until I get to the bottom of it.”
“Bottom of what?” I demand.
She bites on her plump bottom lip and darts her gray eyes my way. They aren’t filled with hate and animosity. No, she looks…uncertain.
“My mood,” she murmurs. “I feel better.”
“You were unwell?” Sayer asks, his voice dripping with concern.
“N-No,” she stammers. “I was unhappy.” She waves the air around her. “But your pheromones, probably because I’m carrying your baby, are doing something to my body. It’s a physiological response, clearly.”
“Does that explain why I feel the same way too?” Sayer frowns at me. His eyes flicker with guilt.
“How do we make it stop?” I demand, my gaze darting between them both.
Grace is leaning against his chest and his hand has crept around to cradle her stomach. They’re coming together and don’t even seem to be realizing it. If we don’t stop it, he’ll have his cock inside her by the next solar. Over my dead rekking body!
“You’re growling,” Sayer says, jerking his hand back from her stomach.
I bare my double fangs. “I can’t watch this. I can’t watch this alien steal my mate.”
Grace’s eyes widen. “Your mate. Holy shit.”
Another growl rumbles through me.
“You can’t tell anyone,” Sayer pleads. “We could get locked away for this.”
Her brows scrunch together. “They’d lock you away for loving each other? What kind of fucked up planet are we on?”
“On Mortuus, a traditional mating is a male and female. Two males cannot reproduce,” Sayer explains.
“To our kind, it would be pointless,” I hiss out.
“Let me think for a second,” Grace mutters, pinching the bridge of her nose with her fingers.
Sayer dips his nog and nuzzles his nose in her hair. “Take your time.”
My sub-bones start popping again, but neither of them seem to notice. When she grips his arm and caresses her thumb over his minnasuit, I lose it.
“Get your hands off my mate, alien,” I snap.
Sayer growls at me. “Enough, Jare.”
“Enough?” I roar, throwing my arms in the air. “Look what’s happening! You can’t even stop it! You’re both blind to it!”
The door swooshes open behind us. Draven stalks in with Molly on his heels.
“Everything okay, darlin’?” Molly asks, rushing over to Grace.
Grace nods slowly, almost dazed. “Doesn’t he smell good?”
“Shoot the monkey!” Molly exclaims. “You’re dazzled by the baby daddy smell. Something tells me you’re going to be nine kinds of pissed about this when you get some fresh air. Come on, sweetie, let’s get you some goldenroot candies.”
She tugs Grace away from Sayer and out the door. Draven darts his gaze between Sayer and me, then narrows his eyes. Thankfully, he’s not much of a talker and exits quietly behind his mate. As soon as they’re gone, Sayer blinks away his daze.
“Where’d Grace go?” he asks, his voice hoarse.
I stalk over to him and throw my arms around him in an embrace. “Rekk, Say. I thought I lost you.”
“Lost me? Why would you lose me?”
I palm his face in my hands and look into his eyes. “Her carrying your mortyoung connects the two of you,” I admit, pain tugging at my heart. “I don’t know how to make it stop.”
He finally seems to find his way back to me because his body relaxes. Leaning forward, he presses his lips to mine. “You should take off your minnasuit.”
My cock thickens at his words. “So you can rut on me wishing I were her?”
As though I’ve struck him, Sayer pulls back. His features are contorted into an angry scowl—a look I’m not used to seeing on his handsome face. “I have work to do,” he bites out, turning his back on me.
“Sayer,” I choke out, running my fingers down his back. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too. I don’t know what overcame me or how to make it stop.” He turns and his dark eyes flicker with fury. “But if you assume I could so easily toss you aside for someone new, perhaps you don’t know me as well as you thought.”
“You hurt me,” I mutter, pain lancing through my chest. “Seeing you with her…”
“You hurt me too,” he replies. “I’m just as much in the dark about all this as you are. Cut me some slack, Jareth.”
Not Jare or mate or any of the other names he likes to call me.
Jareth.
“I’ll let you get back to work,” I tell him gruffly.
The only response I get from him is a nod of his nog.
I leave before I break down crying like a mortling.
5
Grace
“This is so excitin’,” Molly prattles on as she tugs me by the arm and down the hall. Our destination is unknown aside from—what had she called them?—goldenroot candies? I let her tug me along because otherwise I’d be turning on my head and letting my raging pheromones lead me right back to Sayer’s arms.
The last place I want to be. The last place I should be—at least if I’m going to keep my wits about me.
“They keep candies for me in the kitchen. I crave them something fierce these days.” Molly gives her stomach an affectionate caress. It’s so easy for her, so natural, being pregnant. She glows with happiness and contentment when she isn’t thinking about her daughter and whether or not she’ll get another comm transmission from her.
I palm my own belly as Molly guides me down this turn and that. The baby inside me does a little flip—or at least that’s how it feels—and I jolt. Molly stops when I gasp.
“Something wrong, sugar? Should I get Avrell?” she asks.
“No!” I say a little more forcefully than I intend. “No,” I repeat, more calmly. “Thank you. The baby moved, is all. I’m afraid I’m not quite used to the thought of being pregnant. I never planned to have children.”
“You sure you’re okay?” she says with an assessing gleam in her eye.
“I’m fine, I promise.”
“If you say so.” We resume walking. “You never wanted a family?”
I lift a shoulder. “I never gave it much thought. There wasn’t time.”
“No time? What do you mean?”
“Well, I spent most of my young adult life going to school, apprenticing in labs and then doing advanced studies. I’ve never even had a relationship.”
“You never had a boyfriend or anything?” Her big eyes widen. “Really? But you’re so pretty!” she exclaims. We reach the cafeteria and she guides me to a table. A cluster of aliens perks up at our entrance, but she waves them away. “Wait right here, I’ll fetch us some candy from my secret stash and we’ll have some girl talk.” She bounces on her feet and squeals. “I’m so excited. Aria and Emery are sweethearts, but they’re kind of BFFs and I’ve been something of a third wheel. I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I have a good feeling about you. You’re going to be my new BFF.”
With that, she flounces away, leaving me gaping after her. The group of aliens is seated at a table on the opposite side of the room. Even though Molly had cautioned them away, they still study me with blatant interest.
One of them is leaned back in a chair with long hair tied up with a strip of cloth. There’s a devil-may-care glint to his gaze, even from all the way across the room. He reminds me of a cowboy I saw in a film once. He wiggles his eyebrows at me when he notices me staring.
“I could keep you company if you’re lonely,” he says, grinning and baring his double fangs.
The one beside him elbows him. “Leave her alone, Theron. You’re scaring her.”
“Maybe your ugly nog is scaring her, Hadrian,” Theron charges back, elbowing him.
Not wanting to let them think I can be so easily intimidated, I keep my expression carefully schooled as though seeing them doesn’t faze me in the slightest.
Next to the bickering boys, another alien has a tray of mangled metal he’s studying intently. He’s the only one of the group who hasn’t noticed me. His long hair is slightly unkempt and he’s got streaks of what I can only imagine to be grease along his high arching cheekbones. Despite the rising chatter from his companions, his attention is solely on the gadget in his hands. I’m drawn the most to him as I can relate to his laser-focus on his work. I’m the same way when I’m in the thick of an experiment. Sometimes the only thing that matters is getting the desired results.
“Oz. Oz. Ozzzz,” Hadrian barks out. “You gonna eat that?”
Oz absently pushes his plate toward Theron and Hadrian, all the while never looking up.
As I wonder what he’s working on, my train of thought shifts from the tinkerer to Avrell—the scientist who I hold most at fault for what’s happened to me. Had he been the same way? Had his desperation for his experiment to be a success combined with his need to help save his people caused him to forget I was a person instead of just a subject? There’s a certain amount of objectivity you have to have when your test subjects aren’t inanimate objects. I, more than anyone, should know that.
“Haven’t you figured out how to grow anything that don’t taste like rogshite?” Hadrian taunts the guy at the end.
He’s tense and thrumming with anger that he barely keeps a lid on. The two loudmouths—Hadrian and Theron—laugh good-naturedly while the angry one vibrates with fury.
“When’s the last time you killed us fresh meat?” Oz says absently, never looking up but directing his comment to Hadrian. “Oh, that’s right, you’re too busy pining over the females you can’t have.”
Theron snorts, slapping the table. The one on the end cracks a smile.
“What Galen grows in his lab has kept us fed on many hard solars,” Oz says, clearly the only levelheaded adult in the group. “Go mess with Breccan. I’m sure he’d love to take you to the mats and thump your nog in a few good times.”
At the mention of Breccan giving Hadrian an old-fashioned beat down, Hadrian scowls. This only amuses Theron more because he laughs so hard he nearly falls off his chair. Galen no longer seems irritated and leans in to ask Oz about what he’s working on.
Molly arrives with a big smile and a bowl spilling over with brightly-colored candy, saving me from going down the path of forgiveness and understanding. I’m still much too damn pissed off, confused, and in the throes of upheaval to consider either.
I study the bowl dubiously. “Are you sure about this?” I ask. “They aren’t poisonous, are they?”
Molly’s giggle is infectious, and I can’t help but smile. Which then makes me frown. Dammit, how does she do that?
“No, they taste kind of like caramel candies or butterscotch. Trust me, they’re so good. You’ll love them.”
Shrugging, I pop one into my mouth and moan around it as the sweetness explodes over my tongue. Meals here are somewhat sparse as the aliens can only cook whatever they can grow—which isn’t much. But it’s not only the rare treat of sugar I’m savoring, it’s also because the salty sweet caramel flavor tastes just like Sayer had smelled when I had my face buried in his throat.
