sudden impulse to lift the note to his nose. He inhaled deeply and groaned as his cock stirred anew.
The paper smelled of vanilla and lavender. It smelled like Tabitha.
“Karak’duun, I’m in trouble,” he muttered as he tucked the check into the envelope and stepped into his dwelling.
Five
Zevris pulled his vehicle into a parking place in front of the Hardware Emporium and turned off the engine. Though the lack of consistency could become worrisome if he dwelled upon it too long, he was glad that, unlike driveway, the term parking lot made sense.
Of course, if he allowed his mind to wander regarding the different meanings of the word park, he was bound to end up with a headache. He was convinced that the ancient humans who’d developed the English language must either have been very cruel or fancied themselves amusing. It had likely been both.
He climbed out of the truck, closed the door, and walked toward the building. The Hardware Emporium was considered a home improvement retailer, specializing in the materials and tools necessary for construction, maintenance, and renovation. Zevris had come here often to supply his woodworking and purchase parts for minor repairs in his home. Normally, he’d have deferred to experts for such repairs, but he preferred having as few humans enter his dwelling as possible. Though he’d tried to furnish the house in a way that would resemble an average human residence, there was no telling what small details could rouse suspicion.
All he knew was that it didn’t have to be anything as blatant as a plasma pistol accidentally left on the coffee table or a holographic display projecting on the kitchen counter.
As he stepped into the store, his nose was struck by the mingling scents of the plants on display to the side—earthy, floral, and alive. For all the frustrations Earth had caused him, Zevris was glad that he’d been sent to a verdant region. It had been a long while since he’d been able to enjoy greenery like he’d found here in western Oregon.
He continued deeper into the store, walking along aisles that had become familiar to him. Though he had a list in mind of exactly what he needed to purchase and knew where each of those items was located, he found himself wandering. More than once, his fingers twitched, and he had to battle the urge to take the folded envelope out of his back pocket, to inhale Tabitha’s scent from it, to grin at the crooked little smiley face she’d drawn.
The warrior in Zevris told him she was his to claim, told him to take her. To stride up to her, pull that luscious body against his while staring fire into her lovely green eyes, and slam his mouth over hers in a kiss. To tell her she that was his mate—that she was his.
Yet even though he did not fully understand human courtship rituals, he knew that was certainly not their way. Tabitha was not a female to be forced into submission, but a female to be wooed.
If only the instructional videos humans called pornography weren’t so sorely lacking in terms of courtship. Every one he’d watched skipped almost immediately to mating and had no information on building a relationship.
His successes in the field of wooing were minimal thus far. If songs were ever written about his ability to court human females, they’d undoubtedly be the sort sung in jest by soldiers who were far too deep into their cups.
Zevris strode along the paint aisle, his eyes darting from side to side to take in the myriad of colors. Which was Tabitha’s favorite? He was hesitant to assume anything, knowing how unpredictable and contradictory humans could be, but he somehow doubted that she had a single color she liked more than the rest. She seemed the sort to enjoy an array of colors, all as bright and vivid as her.
Though when he thought about it further, perhaps she did prefer one color. Her fingernails had been the same pink as the note. Was that merely coincidence, or was it a sign?
Why do I continue with these thoughts as though she hasn’t already fled from me twice?
And yet she’d also shown signs of interest in him. She’d looked at him with heat in her eyes, with desire, and he’d scented her arousal when she was near. Even when she’d run, some primal aspect of Zevris had taken it as a challenge, as an invitation, to give chase. His instincts seemed to recognize some