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The answer to that is the same answer to the question “could she provide me with more reasons to despise her?”.
Fighting the instinct to sneer is masked by a single teeth suck. “Yes.”
“And?” She leans back into her squeaky brown office chair. “What is it?”
“Playful.”
“Not lethargic?”
“No.”
“Any swimming changes due to his injury?”
“No.”
“And the injury itself?” Raquel shifts her stare back to Calen. “How’s it healing?”
“Well.” The smile he offers is reassuring. “No permanent damage to his vision has been detected.”
“Good.” Her curt nodding is followed by a Lex Luthor here to scare Batman type of head tilt. “This morning a female scalloped hammerhead was rescued close to the coast from an attempted finning. She sustained quite a number of injuries, all of which I have been told are minor. She was brought back to the Research and Rescue division of K&T for initial assessing.”
“Poor baby girl,” mindlessly leaves my lips.
“They’ll be assessing her again shortly; however, if her injuries are as minor as they believe, they would like to hold her for breeding.”
Any ability to speak is severed.
“And since K&T is a larger, more equipped, and much higher funded institute that is built for longer term species reproduction, we’re interested in transferring Steven to their facility for mating.”
I swear I spot the faintest twinkle in her eyes over my inability to respond.
“Given his already isolated nature and the aggressive incident filed-”
“But that wasn’t his fault!”
Calen places a supportive palm in the middle of my back to wordlessly encourage me to regain my composure.
“Given these current circumstances,” Raquel hisses like the Wicked Witch of the Water that she is, “we believe a move would be beneficial for all parties involved. You two will be accompanying Eoghan to K&T to observe the female’s behavior and provide any insight that may be useful in helping him during his evaluation of the potential relocation.” She villainously steeples her hands together in front of her. “You leave Friday.”
Chapter 4
Brynley
Friday?!
I have to leave my poor, injured baby on Friday to go meet his possible arranged marriage bride-to-be?!
What type of trip to Murder Planet in the Hirogen star system is this?!
The slamming of the front door to our penthouse is mindless and unintentional and absolutely warrants the unhappy glower Wes is giving me, yet the new sharp stabs in my still upset stomach tell me that’s not what got his Dark Knight having boxers in a twist.
“Where the fuck have you been, Brynley?!”
“Weston is using my full name,” I tauntingly reply, workbag being dropped in the entryway. “This must be serious.”
J.T. poorly hides his snicker from where he’s sitting on our gray, L shaped couch with the man I’m going to marry hovering behind him.
Wes doesn’t even bother glancing in his best friend’s direction. “Where?!”
