More Than a Man (5 page)

He waited through twenty images before he
realized he was waiting for a picture of her with one of her past
husbands. The two who had gone before him. He knew the bare facts
from his created memories, but that didn’t give him a sense of what
they meant to her. What he might mean to her.

Another dozen pictures went by. Either she
didn’t keep any after they were gone or her loop was made up of
every picture she’d ever taken and he hadn’t reached the married
life portion of the digital album.

Fine, if she didn’t have pictures of her
previous husbands, or if she’d deleted them in anticipation of his
arrival, he wouldn’t have to push as hard to stamp his mark on her
life. Her home, on the other hand, should be an easier project.

He turned from the frame and roved through
the remainder of the first floor, noting her array of gadgets, the
pile of holiday gifts still in boxes next to the dismantled tree.
He paused, wondering what the gifts could tell him about her. A
high-end desk set in azurestone and polished gold. Real gold, not
plate. A stack of holovids ranging from comedies to action flicks.
Three fat books on gardening. He shook his head. Without knowing
who gave the gifts or what she thought of them, they didn’t give
him much more than he had.

A small room at one end of the house seemed
to be used mainly for storage. He hooked his thumbs in his
waistband and turned a circle in the room. Not much bigger than a
closet, maybe intended to be a den or a sitting room, it might be a
good place to set up his drums. They could put in some
sound-absorbing panels so he didn’t wake the neighbors. Yeah, that
might work.

He might be created, but he was created for
her. She’d wanted a drummer, so she must be willing to accommodate
that. They’d need to get him a new kit. The prospect of a new kit
and his own space eased his mood.

Fresh flowers adorned a narrow table in the
kitchen. Their stems were smudged with soil. Bright flashes of
color drew his eye to a panel of clear ceraglass. A door, he
realized, noting the security panel. Beyond the door a small garden
of green, pink and red grew in a long, narrow box. The sight of the
flowers triggered his knowledge stores and generated the planted
memory of her. As a lawyer, she spent her time attached to devices
and locked away in secure offices and courtrooms. She liked to dig
her hands deep in dirt in order to transition from work to fun.

An image of Noelle on her knees in front of
him, hands fisting in the dirt as he fucked her from behind, jolted
unbidden through his mind. Yeah, he could get into gardening,
too.

He reluctantly turned away from the rich
source of inspiration and resumed his survey of her house. Only one
cup and one dish occupied the kitchen sink. He found the cupboard
with glasses, filled one with water and drank it down, then set his
glass beside hers. It was a small trace of his presence but it was
a start.

Staring at the second glass in the sink, he
regretted the action. The water had rinsed her flavor from his
mouth and he wanted it back. Earlier, he’d almost said he’d never
tasted anything as good as her, but caught himself as he realized
he’d never tasted anything before her. Part of him wanted to share
the joy of discovering her but another part had stayed his tongue.
He had a small suspicion that the more attention he called to his
origin, to his similarity to her previous husbands, the harder he’d
have to work at merging into her life.

Chapter Three

Fifteen minutes after Aya left the room, Mora
finally rang off. Noelle tested the strength of her thighs by
standing and walking the length of the room. Good. Mind-blowing
orgasm weakness had worn off in the adrenaline rush of panic and
the calming effect of Mora's mundane conversation. Except...bad.
Because Aya hadn't been projecting waves of happiness when he'd
slipped out.

She frowned and dropped down onto the small
antique vanity chair. He'd definitely been unhappy about something,
but she couldn't figure it out. Had he wanted her to pop up on the
screen half-naked and declare Mora had interrupted the best sex
she'd had in years? Scrubbing a hand over her face, she pushed out
of the chair.

After changing out of her pajamas, she headed
downstairs. She had to at least make the effort, though he'd
already blown her plans to bits by arriving early.

He wasn't in the living room, though his bag
was still in the foyer, so he hadn't gone far.

Maybe the kitchen?

"You didn't tell anyone, did you?"

She whipped around. Hand over her heart, she
gave herself a moment to recover. For a big man, he moved very
quietly. He leaned in the doorway, massive arms folded across his
chest. He hadn't bothered to put his shirt back on and his pants
clung precariously to his hips. How did they stay up? There wasn't
an ounce of fat anywhere on him. It wouldn't take more than a tiny
nudge to have those pants sliding to the floor. Her heart thumped
under her hand. Swallowing, she shook her head. "What?"

"You didn't tell anyone you were getting a
new mate." It was a statement this time, not a question. Still, the
intense interest in his eyes demanded a response.

"Well, no. It just seemed...easier." Noelle
tried to ignore the reproachful whisper of her conscience. She
hadn't done anything wrong.

"Easier." He tilted his head, expression
unchanging. "I see. I didn't peg you for a coward, Noelle."

She recoiled, mouth agape. "Where the hell do
you get off saying that to me? You don't know anything about me or
the situation." She whirled away from him. Long, furious strides
took her through the living room.

Screw him. He'd walked through her door less
than two hours ago. Everything he knew about her was from computer
feeds and sublimitapes. He didn't know what she'd been through when
first Micah and then John had died. Died because of her selfish
desires. He couldn't know the pressure she got from her mother or
the pitying glances from her friends whenever she brought up the
idea of a third husband. Hell, no one got married three times. It
was unheard of. Aside from the fact that Manporium marriages lasted
until-death-do-you-part, not many people could afford to go the
Manporium route three times. Her parents had paid the freight the
first time. The second time they'd paid part of the cost while
she'd eaten the rest. This time she’d done it all on her own, and
she'd made major sacrifices to do so. So excuse the hell out of her
if she didn't feel like fighting with everyone around her about her
choices.

She slapped her palm on the security panel to
unlock the ceraglass doors that led to her tiny walled garden.

Something heavy and very strong wrapped
around her arm, pulling her from the doors and back into the house.
What the...holy Deity, what the fuck was that? She stared blankly
at the smooth, dark thing gripping her arm. Like a thick vine only
more muscular, more...alive.

Unwilling to believe what her brain was
trying to tell her, she forced herself to follow the line of the
thing from her arm across half the living room and into Aya's
torso. Which now sprouted four smooth tentacles down the midline.
Evidently those birthmarks she liked so much were more than
marks.

Blinking, she vaguely noted her knees
starting to give out under her. Of more immediate concern, another
of those tentacles whipped around to grip her other arm, holding
her steady. How had this happened? How did her perfect spouse have
tentacles? It was really too much. If Kendall could see her now,
she'd laugh hysterically.

The thought snapped her out of her shock. She
stiffened her knees. "Let me go."

"You're right. I don't know." Aya crossed the
distance between them. His torso seemed to...absorb the...the
tentacles, retracting them as he approached, but not loosening his
grip. "Talk to me instead of running away. Explain the
situation."

"Explain. Yeah. How about you first." She
held her arms out to her sides. "
What
are these?"

"They..." A strange expression crossed his
features. When he reached her, his hands encircled her biceps and
the tentacles loosened, melting back into muscle while she watched.
"They are part of me. How can you not know?"

Noelle inhaled, intending to blow out a long,
calming breath. Instead, she held it, some part of her reluctant to
relinquish his lovely scent. Despite her initial cornered-mouse
instincts, she felt her body relaxing. When she finally exhaled,
she couldn't find her irritation. Confusion, however, she possessed
in spades. Thank Deity she’d done the whole “expanding horizons”
thing and watched some of the old anime. The tentacles weren’t
terrifying, they were only weird. And…they had possibilities. She
bit her lip. Tentacles later. Aya first. "I couldn't know because I
didn't ask for...those."

Mistake
. There must have been a
mix-up. She'd gotten someone else's man. Noelle frowned, trying to
figure out how to say as much without insulting him. "Maybe I
should review the receipt."

After the space of a heartbeat, he nodded and
lowered his hands from her arms. "It’s in my bag."

"Okay." She swallowed and turned sideways to
slip past him. "I'll get it."

Aya didn't follow her. On her way to the
foyer, Noelle glanced over her shoulder to find him still standing
at the open door to the garden. He gripped the frame above his
head, his lean body drawn in a long, taut line. His pants clung to
him, outlining strong legs and the... She shook her head and turned
away. Better not to think of things that probably weren't hers
after all. Which was really too bad, because suddenly Brenda’s
fascination with tentacles made complete sense. Who needed Erica’s
two dicks if you had tentacles at your disposal?

In the foyer, she crouched beside Aya's
discarded duffel. His paperwork and identilock chip were wedged
into an outside pocket. Noelle pulled out the packet and propped
herself up against the wall. The topmost page was a letter of
introduction, including a list of suggested reading relevant to new
relationships. Noelle shuffled the form letter to the bottom. She'd
memorized it with John, hoping to avoid the disasters she'd
experienced with Micah. Ultimately, no amount of practical advice
had eased the way for a lasting marriage when she'd started them
down the path with a flawed premise.

Blinking furiously at a sting of tears, she
refused to consider she might have to give up a third man before
she'd even really known him. Manporium might have a no return
policy, but they would definitely want to fix a mix-up like
this.

She thumbed past the care-and-feeding sheet,
the list of contacts for such services as marriage counseling, and
the advertisements for Babyporium, Petporium, and In-LawPorium.

"Finally," she muttered, dropping everything
else and smoothing the crease bisecting the itemized receipt.
Quickly, she skimmed. Baritone voice. Mathematically inclined. Long
tongue. Penis dimensions. Face heating, she skipped further down
the list. Drummer. Unsulfured molasses. Vegetarian.

Unsulfured molasses?

"Oh no,” she moaned. Her hands shook. “No no
no."

Except...yes. The list continued. Pleather
gloves. Red hot candies. Well, that explained the tongue issue.
She'd heard of red hot kisses before, but this was taking things to
a whole new level. She smothered a hysterical giggle.

Genetically predisposed to twins.

Tentacle movie.

Noelle closed her eyes and dropped her head
back against the wall.
Tentacle. Fucking. Movie.
She
crumpled the receipt in her fist, not bothering to read more. The
only other part of the receipt that mattered was the bold-type line
at the bottom that clearly stated return policy: all husbands
final. The only way out of a Manporium marriage after receipt of
your mate was to petition to have him recycled. And that was so not
an option. She wouldn’t do that to her man. She tipped her head,
considering the thought. Yeah. He hadn’t been hers long, but she
was definitely feeling possessive.

A noise from the other room hauled her from
her state of stomach-churning shock. She scrubbed her hands over
her face.
Okay
. A man was more than the sum of his parts.
Even if his parts were farther-reaching and more retractable than
she'd planned for. All the things she wanted were there.
Polite
to old ladies
. He just had...extra. She could work with that.
And tasting like gingerbread was not a bad thing. She let her
breath out slowly. Plus, the tentacle thing had interesting
possibilities. They could work this out.

Carefully folding Aya's packet of paperwork,
she returned it to his duffel and shouldered the bag as she stood.
The weight tipped her sideways but she gritted her teeth and
carried it back to the living room.

"We should take your things upstairs," she
said when he turned away from the door to the garden.

"It's heavy. I'll take care of it." He
started toward her but stopped after a few paces. "Did you find the
receipt?"

She nodded and dropped his duffel gently.
"I...well. I won't lie. You're, um,
more
than I
expected."

"You mean not what you wanted," he said
flatly.

His tone made her wince. "No. I mean more
than I expected. Let's just say Manporium was chaotic the day I
stopped by to upload my specifications. There was some
confusion."

"And now you have me."

"Yeah." She managed a wan smile. "Now I have
you."

Aya turned away. He ran his hands over his
shaved head and linked his fingers at the back of his neck.
"Manporium has a no-returns policy, but creations can petition on
their own to be returned."

She hadn't known about that loophole, but it
didn't matter. They may not have told him, but she was pretty sure
that returned meant recycled. Cautiously, she closed the distance
between them and rested her fingertips at the small of his back.
Powerful muscles rippled and bunched as he tensed. Noelle firmed
her touch, her palm flush to his skin. To his back, she said, "I
don't want a refund. I want someone to love."