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Bizarrely, he paused at my nearly inaudible order.
His frame relaxed in a smooth change, as if he had not been about to move.
Ever so casually, he lifted a perfectly sculpted, white brow in silent question.
My lips thinned. I did not explain. I was not sure if I understood it myself.
Pluma Moir did not appear bothered that I did not respond. Instead, his gaze ran over my features once more…and then lower. The assessment felt more personal in nature than a cold evaluation of my physical wellbeing, making me wonder why he was studying my physique with the intensity that he was. He cleared his throat as his gaze met mine again, and I did not try to evade his touch as he lifted his right hand for a second time.
Once more, his thumb brushed gently against my cheek. His touch was not frigid this time; it was normal warmth. But he grunted softly, and lowered his hand in an unhurried movement.
Pluma Moir ultimately pulled his unique gaze away from mine. He glanced back at Pluma Creo, who was watching him with mild trepidation. Pluma Moir cracked his knuckles, and then snorted…right before he laughed outright, his head even falling back with his booming glee. “She’s not ours, thank the Gods. Our Harem would have been breakneck violent.” Even as he continued laughing his butt off, I noticed he took three large steps away from me, back toward Pluma Creo. Not glancing in my direction again, he waggled a finger at me, and then spoke to Pluma Kreob and Pluma Wazra, “Good luck with that.”
Pluma Kreob’s enormous form was tense where he sat on the table, his legs no longer swinging in relaxation. He sat as if he were frozen in place, merely blinking at a spot above my head. His mouth barely moved when he choked, “Malik, please go check her.”
My head cocked, the room reeling with that tiny movement. Butterflies spun in sadistic fury inside my stomach. I burped quietly, and quickly put a hand to my mouth. “I think I might be sick.” I had no clue what the hell was going on with these Plumas, but I knew I could not take much more of this. “Is there a trashcan around here?”
Pluma Kreob mumbled, “And figure out why the hell she keeps saying ‘cow’.”
Oh…whatever.
I peered left, and then the right searching for a trashcan.
“Gentlemen, she looks vaguely ill.” Pluma Creo grinned from ear-to-ear, appearing mighty pleased with my predicament. “Perhaps ‘cow’ means ‘toilet’ in her language.”
Pluma Wazra grumbled, “Fucking hell, this cannot be happening.” He jerked from his seat, his silver, glowing eyes dead set on mine as he prowled in my direction.
A small, frightened noise that completely embarrassed me floated past my parted lips. This Mian was even taller than I had guessed him to be, well over a foot taller than the top of my head. He was not as tall as the jerk litigator I had first seen, but where that Mian had been skinny, this Pluma was all hard corded muscles. I groped for the door handle, wanting to get as far away from him as possible with that killer expression he wore while he watched me fumble for an outlet of escape.
I squealed when he was suddenly gone from my vision…then plastered up against the front of my body, smashing me against the frosted glass. I snapped my mouth shut against the sign of fear, and ground my molars against each other. I would not show any more weakness.
With his weight crushing my smaller frame, he lifted his left hand.
I readied myself against the bite of coldness I knew would come, like all the Mian’s unwanted touches so far. It was a definite peculiar reaction, but still one nonetheless. Fisting my hands, I held perfectly still.
With the easiest of brushes, he gently caressed my check with the pad of his thumb.
He went frigid against me.
I blinked in surprise.
His finger was not cold. It was warm and soothing. I felt it all the way deep into my bones.
A contented sigh that I could not stop escaped as my body went languid against him. All of my nausea was gone in the blink of an eye. The horrible itch of my Cold Mark was a fleeting memory. When the pad of his thumb turned slightly, never leaving my flesh, just altering his hand so he could cup my cheek with his large warm palm, I did not even flinch at the foreign touch. Instead, my head sank against his heated skin, burrowing deeper against it, like a kitten wanting to be pet.
There was a radiant light coming from underneath Pluma Wazra’s black shirt, but I barely noticed it as I lifted my arms. He automatically bent for me, and I placed my arms around his neck and began climbing up him until I was wrapped tight around him with legs around his waist. The quiet purr that I heard from deep within his throat was in pure cadence to the harmony that wove itself through my entire being, shattering deep into my soul. Still gently cupping my cheek, he wound his other muscled arm around my waist and held me close while nuzzling his face against the side of my neck, deeply breathing me in.
Through the blissful haze, I heard Pluma Kreob growl at the other Plumas, “Touch him and you’re dead.” The table in the middle of the room sounded like it was knocked over. His tone was full of contrived politeness. “With much respect, you two need to get the fuck out.” Then his voice was closer in the fog of my mind, whispering gently against Pluma Wazra’s ear, “Malik, you need to move away from the door.”
Pluma Wazra growled quietly, but glided over like he was moving on air.
The door, so difficult to open before, released. It clicked shut as the Pluma’s Moir and Creo left.
I groaned softly when Pluma Kreob stood behind Pluma Wazra and hesitantly brushed his own thumb over my forehead. Lightning warmth sizzled through me, grounding me to these two Mian. Shuddering to my core, my eyes closed to listen to the beauty beating inside of me. All I felt was heating warmth as I passed out in the safety of two Mian’s arms.
A rough rocking jarred me awake. I lifted my head from the warm leather my cheek laid upon. I blinked repeatedly, trying to understand where I was. Rubbing my eyes, I tilted my head to the side, and stopped stock still.
I was in some kind of armored vehicle.
I was also lying on top of Pluma Wazra and Pluma Kreob’s laps.
They were both staring down at me with their simmering, glowing eyes.
I shrieked and slammed a hand against Pluma Wazra’s face, and shoved away from them.
I fell in a heap onto the floor of the vehicle.
Pluma Wazra grunted and rubbed his chin where I had whacked him.
With enormous eyes, I noticed he now wore a black ring on his thumb.
Same as Pluma Kreob, who lifted a hand in a gentle patting motion. “Calm down, Braita.”
