Until Midnight (Alienated) Page 2

  “Just take this pair,” he said. “They’re better.”

  “If you say so.” She sat down and unlaced her boots, then took a new one from him and tried to put her foot inside. As intended, she didn’t get very far. “Is there something in here?” She tipped the boot upside down until several leafy stalks of l’apoh fell out. Picking one up, she studied it with narrowed eyes. “Is this some kind of alien celery?”

  “Surprise,” Aelyx said, splaying both hands for effect. “We’re celebrating Christmas a week early!”

  “Okay.” Her ivory brow furrowed. “But what does that have to do with veggies in my boots?”

  He shook his head at her. As intelligent as Cara was, she should’ve made the connection on her own. “On Earth, children put vegetables in their shoes on Christmas Eve, then leave them on the doorstep for Santa’s reindeer.”

  Her pretty pink lips curved in a smile. “You sure about that?”

  “Of course I am,” he said, indicating her laces. “Now, hurry up. Your letterblanket is getting cold.”

  “My what?”

  “Really, Cah-ra,” he chided. It was her holiday, not his. “The cookie in the shape of an ‘S’ for your family’s last name. You’re supposed to eat it the night before Christmas, but since we don’t have any sweetener, it’s not truly a cookie anyway. More like bread.”

  Cara finished tying her boots and joined him in the hallway. “Sounds great, but I still don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

  He fished a bundle of imitation viscum album from his pocket. “Are you familiar with this? You’re supposed to kiss me if I hold it over your head.”

  “Mistletoe,” she said with a grin. She lifted his hand above her ponytail and moved close enough to put a hitch in his pulse. “Now that I recognize.”

  “Finally.” He was beginning to wonder if he’d misspelled a word in his Internet query. But when Cara looped both arms around his neck and rose on tiptoe, his mind shut to everything but the intoxicating sensations of her mouth against his and the tip of her soft tongue skimming his upper lip. He groaned and opened to her instantly. The scent of spiced citrus filled his head, the warmth of her body heating his blood as they explored and claimed each other all at once. Soon he found a better use for his hands, and the mistletoe fell to the floor.

  Gods alive, he loved kissing her.

  It was hard to believe there’d ever been a time when he thought the practice of kissing was unusual. He couldn’t think of anything better than tangling himself in Cara’s arms, sharing the same stolen breaths, and tasting her sweet mouth while her heart pounded against his chest.

  Well, maybe he could imagine something a little better, but she’d told him she wasn’t ready for that yet. Until then, he would be patient…and mentally recite Earth’s periodic table when she pressed into him with the soft curves that drove him half mad.

  Like right now.

  He made it all the way to “zinc” before asking her to stop torturing him.

  “Sorry,” she whispered, beaming at him in a way that said she wasn’t sorry at all. Her freckled cheeks were flushed scarlet and her lips swollen from their kiss. She practically glowed with loving him, and the sight caused the backs of his eyes to prickle.

  Aelyx took a mental snapshot of the moment to comfort him that night, when an earthbound transport would take him away from the girl who cradled his whole future in her hands. He wouldn’t add to her anxiety by saying so, but the threat of their impending separation had kept him awake most evenings. He knew they’d be together again, but until that day came, he wouldn’t feel whole.

  She bent to retrieve the makeshift mistletoe and handed it to him. “Don’t want to lose this.”

  “Definitely not.”

  He tucked it back inside his pocket, and they made their way through the heart of the ship to the dining hall. Once there, Aelyx led her to the quiet corner he’d claimed for their festivities. She must have recognized the symbolism behind the pair of black socks he’d affixed to the cardboard mantle, because her face broke into a smile so wide it crinkled the skin around her eyes.

  “Stockings,” she said. “One for me, and one for you. Like a little family.”

  “I know it’s customary to fill them with candy,” he told her, “but Santa couldn’t find any.” He pointed at the sock he’d stuffed for her. “I—uh, I mean he—did leave a few toys, though.”

  “I must’ve been a good girl this year,” she mused in a teasing tone that implied the opposite. “Thanks, Santa.”

  “You’re welcome.” Aelyx dropped a kiss atop her head. “But before you take down your stocking, we have to play ‘hide the pickle.’”

  Cara’s eyes flew wide and she slapped a palm over her mouth to trap a laugh. “Really?” she asked, giggling. “In front of all these people? It’s not supposed to be a spectator sport, you know.”

  He sensed that she was joking, but he didn’t understand why. Perhaps he’d referenced the wrong activity. To check, he pulled out his data tablet and tapped the screen to retrieve the notes he’d made. “Yes,” he said, and read the text aloud. “‘Someone hides a pickle-shaped ornament in the Christmas tree, and the first person to find it gets a special gift.’” He glanced at her, lowering his brows. “Why are you laughing?”

  “Because I’ve never heard of that,” she said. “Also, it sounds kind of dirty.”

  “But it’s a common tradition.” Google had told him so.

  Cara leaned in and peered at his screen. After reading the notes, she delivered a consoling pat on the arm and told him, “Looks like it’s a common tradition…in Germany. The Sweeneys are Irish, but I don’t know how they celebrate Christmas in Ireland. We keep it pretty simple at our house.”

  Mentally, Aelyx smacked his own forehead. He was a fashing idiot.

  He couldn’t believe he’d been so careless as to omit “American” from his query for holiday traditions. Of course humans would celebrate according to their varied cultures. Even on L’eihr, where the entire population lived on a single continent, the residents in the southern precinct observed Sh’ovah a bit differently from the way those in the capital did. They prepared the holy mud to a thicker consistency, and they used more of it during the covering. Not to mention the variations in the feast afterward.

  In his haste, he’d ruined everything.

  He huffed a sigh. “This isn’t your Christmas at all. I’m sorry.”

  “Good,” she said in a tone he recognized as sarcasm. “You should be sorry. How dare you stay up all night to re-create a holiday you don’t even celebrate, then fail to get every detail exactly right?”

  “You don’t have to patronize me. I was stupid to—”

  “Hey,” she interrupted, taking his face between her hands. “Nobody calls my boyfriend stupid and lives to tell the tale.”

  One corner of his lips twitched. “Not even your boyfriend?”

  “Especially not him.”

  “Then I’d better keep quiet,” Aelyx said, faking a shiver. “I’ve seen you when you’re angry. I know you’re not bluffing.”

  “That’s right, and I’m hungry, too.” Smoothing the hair away from his face, she asked, “Didn’t you promise me some kind of sugarless bread shaped like an S?”

  “A letterblanket,” he reminded her. “There’s also a rice pudding of sorts in production, but the recipe is probably from Europe. I doubt it’ll mean anything to you.”

  Cara caressed his jaw with her fingertips, watching him in silence until she released a soft breath. “See, that’s where you’re wrong,” she said, and for a moment it looked like she might cry. But then she gave him a smile that would make the sun shield its eyes. “This means everything to me.”

  Just like that, his dark mood lifted, making way for her infectious joy. “Today’s the beginning, not the end,” he said, for his benefit as well as hers. “We’re going to celebrate hundreds more holidays on the colony—and make new ones, too. I suppose our customs might not tran
slate just right, but that’s okay. They’ll be ours.”

  “Perfect by default,” she added.

  “That’s right.” He hugged her close for a moment before noticing that one of the socks had begun to slip from the wall. “You’d better take down your stocking,” he said.

  Cara didn’t need further convincing. She bounced excitedly on her toes and in seconds, her arm was elbow-deep in the sock. She pulled out a handful of wooden links and spirals—brainteaser puzzles he’d pilfered from the transport’s archive room—and held each one up to admire them. After setting the trinkets on the table, she reached once more inside the stocking and produced something that surprised them both. It was a leather headband adorned with iridescent metal studs—meteorite fragments, judging by their reflective properties.

  She drew an audible breath. “It’s beautiful.”

  Aelyx agreed. It was beautiful, the leather hand-carved in swirling designs and intricate floral patterns. There was just one problem. The band wasn’t from him. And since Santa Claus didn’t exist beyond the fantasies of small children, that meant someone had deliberately waited for him to leave the dining hall before stuffing the gift inside Cara’s stocking.

  Who would do that?

  Her brother, perhaps. But where would Troy have earned enough credits to buy something so lavish? It had to be someone else—someone with greater resources.

  Aelyx didn’t have to ponder the question much longer. The answer presented itself in the form of a familiar voice from behind.

  “Good morning, Cah-ra,” said a young man. “Or should I say Merry Christmas?”

  Aelyx clenched his jaw and muttered, “Jaxen.” It sounded like an accusation, and he immediately adjusted his tone. No matter how he felt about the sh’ot-eating fasher, Jaxen was a member of The Way, and wishing a slow, humiliating death upon him was equal to treason. For this reason, Aelyx tried his best to avoid using Silent Speech with his young leader. It was too hard to contain his loathing through mental dialogue.

  “Good morning,” Aelyx said aloud. He’d managed to temper his voice, but the greeting still sounded tight. It was the best he could do.

  Jaxen kept his gaze fixed on Cara. As usual. “When I overheard the kitchen staff discussing Aelyx’s plans, I couldn’t resist playing along.” He pointed at the leather band in Cara’s grasp. “I hope you like it.”

  She glanced back and forth between them, lips parted in obvious confusion. “So this is from…you, Jaxen?”

  The bastard beamed like a white flame, and Aelyx suddenly remembered his first interaction with Eric, Cara’s previous boyfriend on Earth. Soon after arriving for the student exchange, Aelyx had presented Cara with a faceted gemstone necklace as a birthday gift, and the gesture had infuriated Eric. Dude, the boy had exclaimed, what’s your problem? You don’t buy jewelry for someone else’s girlfriend!

  At the time, the hostile reaction had perplexed Aelyx, but now he understood with crystal clarity why he’d upset the boy. It rankled to see his l’ihan admiring a rival’s gift. He wanted to tear Jaxen’s leather headband into a thousand pieces and burn the remains until not even the ashes were visible. But then he recalled how Cara had reacted when Eric forbade her to wear the necklace. It’d been the catalyst for their breakup that very same night.

  Aelyx had no intention of making the same mistake.

  “Wasn’t that thoughtful?” Aelyx asked. He reached out and stroked Cara’s cheek with his thumb, simply because he could do it and Jaxen couldn’t. “It’s going to look stunning on you. Everything does.”

  It took a moment for her to respond. “Oh,” she said, nodding at Jaxen. “Yes, thank you. It’s gorgeous, really. I can’t wait to show it off.”

  But despite that, she tucked the headband in her tunic pocket.

  Aelyx hid a grin.

  “Do you mind if I join you?” Jaxen asked, seemingly unfazed by the small defeat, or perhaps unaware of it. “I don’t mean to intrude on your holiday, but I have matters to discuss, mostly with Aelyx.”

  “Feel free,” Cara said, and indicated a spare seat on the opposite side of the table. “We’re just about to eat breakfast. I’m sure there’s plenty to go around.”

  The stinking interloper accepted her offer, and Aelyx excused himself to fetch their food from the kitchen—the food he’d paid twenty credits for and would now have to share with the man shamelessly attempting to steal his l’ihan.

  With any luck, Jaxen would choke on a bite of letterblanket.

  That would make a merry Christmas, indeed.

  Fifteen hours pre-departure

  Cara

  The letterblanket reminded Cara of an old sponge, and she nearly choked twice on the rice pudding, but she made throaty mmm noises and lifted another spoonful to her mouth while holding Aelyx’s hand beneath the table. In her heart, this was the best meal of all time.

  Too bad her heart didn’t have taste buds.

  Aelyx and Jaxen didn’t seem to mind the food, which didn’t surprise her. L’eihrs couldn’t tolerate bold spices or too much flavoring. In their world, bland was best, so this breakfast was probably right up their alley.

  Cara squeezed Aelyx’s fingers until he glanced up from his bowl, then she flashed him a grateful smile. He returned the sentiment, but his chrome eyes were shadowed by circles of exhaustion, and she noted a lingering hint of something else in his gaze—a darker emotion she couldn’t quite place. Guilt pricked at Cara’s stomach when she realized how little he must’ve slept last night. What cosmic lottery had she won to deserve a l’ihan who stayed up until dawn to bring Christmas to outer space?

  “This is great,” she said to him. “I can taste the love.”

  That earned a small laugh, but just as he opened his mouth to reply, Jaxen spoke from the other side of the table and Aelyx’s shoulders clenched.

  “We should arrive at the spaceport shortly before midnight,” Jaxen announced, reminding them that the clock was ticking. As if they could forget. “Are you ready?”

  “There’s nothing more for me to pack,” Aelyx said to his bowl. He never looked up from his food, and Cara wondered why he didn’t use Silent Speech with Jaxen. That was how he communicated with all the other L’eihrs on board.

  “I suppose you’ve already consulted the medic,” Jaxen mused while tearing free another chunk of S-shaped bread. “Since you’re bunking with her.”

  Aelyx nodded.

  “Have you spoken with Syrine?” Jaxen asked. “I made arrangements for the two of you to stay with the ambassador in Manhattan. He’s eager to see you again.”

  Now it was Cara’s turn to tense up. She’d done such an effective job at blocking it out that she’d nearly forgotten Aelyx’s best friend—his very pretty best friend—was returning to Earth with him tonight. It was a punishment of sorts for their role in trying to sabotage the alliance. The two were estranged at the moment, understandable as Syrine had lost her marbles and attacked Cara with her bare hands, but Aelyx wouldn’t hold that against his friend forever. At some point, he would forgive Syrine.

  And then what?

  And then they’d be all snug and cozy in the ambassador’s penthouse, that’s what.

  “No,” Aelyx said. “I haven’t seen her since the hearing.”

  Jaxen waved a dismissive hand. “You’ll have plenty of time to catch up at today’s debriefing session. In fact”—he paused to glance over his shoulder as if checking the time, though Cara didn’t see any kind of clock on the wall—“we should get going.”

  “But…but…” Since words failed her, Cara used her spoon to point at the fake fireplace and the sad, gray Charlie Brown tree hanging on the wall. She and Aelyx weren’t done celebrating Christmas—they’d barely begun.

  “Not to worry, Miss Sweeney,” Jaxen said. “I won’t keep your l’ihan forever.”

  “How long will it take?” she asked, then blushed when she remembered his rank within the government. Despite Jaxen’s youth, she had no place making demands of him. Mor
e gently, she added, “It’s our last day together. Can we have a little more time before the meeting? Just an hour or two?”

  From the way Jaxen looked at her, you’d think she’d just delivered the punch line to the world’s dirtiest joke. He studied her with amusement, his lips stretching wide over straight, white teeth in a grin that oozed scandal, while his chrome gaze danced across her face. Unlike most L’eihrs, his eyes were filled with expression. That probably should’ve reassured her, but for some reason, it didn’t.

  Jaxen spoke to Aelyx, but never altered the direction of his gaze. “My gods,” he said. “That face. How do you find the strength to tell her no?”

  Aelyx didn’t answer, but his grasp on hers tightened beneath the table.

  “Believe me,” Jaxen said, this time to Cara. “I’d love nothing more than to indulge you. But unfortunately the command comes straight from Alona. As you humans say, my hands are tied.”

  Alona, the head Elder, was a woman with eyes so cold that a shiver trickled down Cara’s spine at the mention of her name. If the Elders had summoned Aelyx, he needed to go—now. He must’ve known it, too, because he pressed his lips to Cara’s ear and whispered, “I’ll walk you to your room.”

  The last place she wanted to go was back to the shoebox-sized prison cell she shared with her brother. She shook her head, faking her best chipper voice. “And waste a perfectly good letterblanket? You go ahead, and I’ll message Troy to meet me here. He never met a breakfast he didn’t like.”

  “All right,” Aelyx murmured. “I’ll find you as soon as I’m done. Promise.”

  “Take your time. This’ll give me a chance to find a present for you.”

  He placed a gentle kiss on her temple, and then he was gone.

  His sudden absence left her disoriented in the bustling cafeteria. She sat at her table for a while, blinking at the remnants of Christmas morning—a scattering of food resting beside her discarded stocking and the puzzles Aelyx had given her. She’d never enjoyed puzzles all that much, but she loved these simply because he’d chosen them for her. When she had thought the headband was from Aelyx, she’d loved that, too.