plans to abduct me. I guess hobs develop weird wary aversions to the kinds of males who would steal (willing) women.
Hobs need to relax.
“Hmm,” Dohrein murmurs to himself. “I came across a proper term for someone who becomes obsessed with the color green.” He taps on his tablet, probably searching for the word.
From the floor, Jonoh offers, “Viridiphile. The term you’re looking for—” he shoots a pitying look at me, “is viridiphile.”
“Ah, yes. Well done,” Dohrein says, sounding genuinely pleased. “And since we’re on the topic of words, I came across one you might like. One that’s almost ironic considering our discussion. Squabash: to crush, most often with criticism.”
“Oh, that’s very nice,” Jonoh says.
I flop my hand in Jonoh’s direction. “Your brains are amazing.”
Jonoh smiles. “You could say we hobs are Philonoists, to borrow your human term. We love knowledge.”
Dohrein is back to tapping on his device. “Also logophiles. We love words. Jonohkada in particular.”
“That’s neat, Jonoh,” I tell him.
He draws his wings closer to his body, but I see the citrine-marked insides turning brighter at the compliment.
“You’re still here?” Laura asks, entering the room being carried piggyback style on Crispin’s back, her hob who has no wings. Seeing no place to sit, or rather, seeing no high-up place where he wants his woman to sit, he chooses to stand.
Let me just repeat: he’d rather carry her on his back than set her on a floor pillow with the lowly folk (me and Jonoh)—it’s so romantic I could swoon.
“Yeah,” Gracie answers her. “But she’s only got—” She reaches back and tips Dohrein’s tablet in her direction so she can read his timer upside down. Since alien time is different than what we’re used to, I’m not sure if she’s actually reading it accurately or if she’s making it up when she finishes “—three minutes left of this, and then I’m going to start kicking her arse until she gets up.”
“Hmm,” Laura murmurs, her arms crossed easily over Crispin’s collarbone. “You know what this pity party needs?”
“Bash,” I answer.
“Ice cream,” she says, answering her own question. Crispin is practically wearing her like a blanket. This pair is basically snuggie-ing each other. It’s disgusting in its level of domesticity. Disgusting and wonderful and if I can’t have it, at least I can have delicious calories.
“Comfort food sounds good,” I say. “Bring on the ice cream, please.”
“Would you like assistance gaining your feet before Gracie aids you in her special way?” Jonohkada asks politely.
“Sure,” I tell him, and flop my arm in his direction.
Smiling wryly, he clasps my wrist, and I clasp his—and then he so easily has me up on my feet that I blink at him. “Dang, you’re strong,” I tell him like he doesn’t know. He may not be Rakhii-sized, but his gentle nature does not equate to weak, either.
“Thank you?” he answers, looking unsure. And then he wrinkles his nose as he gently releases my wrist.
“What was that for?” I ask him.
Jonoh winces like he’s been caught doing something rude. “Sincerest apologies.”
“What was the look for?” I persist.
Jonoh glances to the side, so I glance over too and find Dohrein and Gracie, the science couple, neither one of them respectively busy with their notes or their sewing anymore but instead unabashedly staring at me and Jonoh. “Go on,” Dohrein says, his writing instrument poised over his tablet.
I swing my head back to look up at Jonohkada. “Yeah, go on. Tell me.”
Jonoh exhales, and even in this, he somehow manages to express a genuine nice-guy regret. “You… smell.”
I rear back. I sniff myself. “I stink? I still smell the shower gel I used this morning.” I shake my head. “And besides, I can’t be funky enough to worry about yet. I just started my failed date-woes tonight. I’ve got at least two days of lamenting my rejected status and stewing in my skin ahead of me before I’m stanky enough to toss in the tub.”
Jonoh looks uncomfortable. And a little confused, like he’s having trouble following everything I said. “You scent strongly of a territorial Rakhii. You’ve been marked.”
I stare at him. “Are you saying I smell like Bash?”
Jonohkada’s eyebrows go up. “Oh yes.”
Hope blossoms inside me. And you know when the apples of your cheeks ride up in your vision, changing your eye shape? My cheeks have popped up big time, proving I’m smiling huge. I probably look crazy. “He marked me good?”
Jonoh’s face screws up. “He managed to smear you with his pungent pheromones quite effectively.”