Knowing Isla, my mate would have met my dam right in the eye. “I’ll endeavor to seduce your son as often as he’ll let me, ma’am.”
I would have pretended that I hadn’t heard that, and my dam would nod gravely. “You had better.”
“Creator save me,” I’d groan as I gazed skyward.
Isla did inform my parents that we’d do our best to bestow a new pup on them a solar from now. They looked thrilled at the prospect, which is ridiculous because it isn’t as if my brothers don’t have their own mates now, and they’re all set to deliver litters one after the other to our parents within a few sunspans.
“You both are greedy,” I’d grumbled to them, brushing my claws through Isla’s mane. “Let my mate rest!”
“Come, my yeoneen,” my sire said to my dam, nipping at her shoulder hard enough to make her purr. “These stone walls are three handspans thick. Nearly soundproof. Let’s leave this pair to rest while we go relive our own pup-making days, shall we?”
I groaned and covered my ears, and Isla laughed.
She tiredly bumped the back of her hand to my arm. “Promise me that’ll be us in a few years.” She’d glanced down at our son’s head, his tiny little head. “I want to make him shudder just like you did.” She’d grinned wearily but evilly.
I’d kissed her brow, fighting to repress a smile. “Oh, we’ll never stop reliving our pup-making days. I vow to you that.”
Isla raised her face to mine, love shining in her eyes. “Good. Now could you be a dear and get me some ice chips? I’m still amazed that you guys have ice chips here just like we do back on Earth—”
“Female,” I’d snarled through my teeth, carefully snatching her by the nape (cradling her, in truth). “I can’t believe you’re still teasing me by comparing your backwoods knuckle-dragging prehistoric planet to our society! If I didn’t love you…”
Isla smiled up at me, her eyes soft and her lids sinking—not with desire, but fatigue. “Yeah? What are you going to do about it?”
I’d placed a gentle kiss on her lips and puffed my nostrils’ smoke away from her face. “Nothing. Your people are primordial ooze to mine, let alone our modern advancements, but I love you anyway, even when you’re being a hellish pain.”
My mate had sighed happily and fallen back against the support of my arm, which I’d slipped behind her. “You say the nicest things, Bash.”
THE END
DELETED SCENE
“So what’s on the agenda today? Let me guess. See rock, grab rock, drop rock! Dang, it’s so repetitive, how do you not go insane—oh, wait, this is starting to explain some things.”
“Human, I can break you,” I mutter loudly enough under my breath that she hears.
And just as I’d hoped, she laughs. “Be careful. I might cry.” She gives me a sly, knowing look. “You’d lose all your pretty progress on your counter.”
“As if I care what some accursed scratch marks represent,” I scoff.
Damned inconvenient: I do.
I sniff. “I need to drop off my lunch satchel.”
“Okay,” Isla says agreeably, smiling as she hugs my side.
ISLA
Bash grinds to a complete halt.
I push at his back. I sling my arm around his waist and slide to his front to give him my confused gaze. “Come on, Grumpy. Let’s go—oh shit.”
Bash is stopped because there, on the wall behind his throne, is the Crying Counter. And instead of the pristine 44-day run he’s managed, it’s a big fat… zero.
“How did that happen?” I ask hollowly.
***
Bash’s scowl is so ferocious it could steam the wrinkles off a bulldog, but he’s still totally holding my hand.
“I shouldn’t care about made-up alien ratings!” he thunders.
“Is he still going on about the Crying Counter?” Gracie asks.
I grimace. “Yeah, guess it’s driving him nuts. Think we can take it down—”
“Are you crazy? This is the best thing that’s ever happened to that Rakhii. He’s actually trying to be nice. Or at least not actively trying to be mean. For your alien, that’s huge. He needs the counter.”
“Accountability for his actions,” Beth nods. Then she frowns. “Who did he make cry this time?”
I feel my eyebrows make a slow crawl up my forehead as I recall with perfect clarity what Bash said on this matter. Shouted, bellowed, said. “He doesn’t know.”
“He doesn’t know?” Gracie asks, for the first time becoming something akin to concerned.
“Nope. I think that’s probably half the reason he can’t let this go. But also because he really liked his accomplishment of 44