Unknown - The_Growing_589064

“Screw the neighbors,” Koda growls, taking a healthy sip of the vintage and thoroughly enjoying it. “Let ‘em get their own wine.”

They settle into companionable silence for a time, both content to watch the sun play over the tiny wavelets in the pond, creating a colorful light show that neither tires of viewing. Their poles are side by side, held up by simple sticks, the bobbers riding along the tiny waves like toy boats in a gigantic bathtub.

The fishing has been good, with Kirsten proving herself an apt angler, catching more than her fair share of bass, perch and crappie. It will make a welcome change from the gruel that has started to pass for food back at the base, and Kirsten licks her lips, already thinking of sautéed fresh bass over early spring greens, completely unaware of the searing blue gaze tracking the movements of her tongue and mouth.

Blinking, Dakota deliberately turns her head toward the water and finishes the last of her wine in an untasting gulp, glad for the moisture it gives a mouth gone dry as desert sand.

“Thank you.” Kirsten’s soft voice floats along on the flower-scented breeze. “I don’t think—no, I know I’ve never had such a nice morning. I…um….” Looking shyly down at her hands clasped across her belly, she continues, “I never was much for sitting down and smelling the roses. It was pretty much all work and no play, and it made me kind of a dull girl.”

“Not dull,” Koda responds matter-of-factly. “Just overworked.” She smiles a little. “And underplayed.”

Chuckling at the poor joke, Kirsten rolls her head and sees the sun peering fully over the ring of tall trees surrounding the pond. “Speaking of work….”

“I noticed.” Placing her wine glass on the blanket, Koda begins packing the remains of their brunch into the basket. “Fenton’s coming to the clinic in a couple hours to look at Dietrich’s handiwork.”

Realizing what that means, Kirsten hurriedly sits up, her face drawn and sad. “Oh, Dakota, I’m so sorry.”

Koda tries to shrug it off. “’salright. It was going to happen sooner or later. Sooner’s just as well, I suppose.”

Green eyes flash. “It’s not alright. It’s not alright and it’s not fair. Damnit, you shouldn’t have to go through this again!”

“If I don’t, who will? Who can speak for him other than me?” Her smile is sad. “Life isn’t fair. Death isn’t either.”

Though her eyes, faraway, don’t register movement, she feels a warm, slight body press against her from the back and two well-made arms wrap around her waist as a chin rests on her shoulder. “You shouldn’t have to go through this alone, Dakota. Hell, you shouldn’t have to go through it at all.” A brief pause. Kirsten’s gentle breathing tickles against Koda’s ear and cheek. “What can I do to help?”

Dakota smiles and turns her head so that their faces are on a level. “Just be you,” she whispers. “That’s all I need.”

“I will,” Kirsten murmurs, sealing the vow with a kiss that quickly deepens. When she feels Koda’s tongue gently trace across her lips, she opens them, bidding welcome. With a groan, Koda pulls Kirsten’s arms away, then twists the smaller woman so that they are now face to face. Her own hands come up, sinking themselves into the thick, soft mass of Kirsten’s golden hair, stroking and tugging as their mouths move together sensually, urgently. Kirsten’s hands find their way onto Dakota’s broad shoulders, squeezing and releasing in time to her panting breaths. She is quickly becoming overwhelmed by everything—the emotions, the sensations, the taste of Koda’s lips and breath—and when she feels one hand leave her hair and trail, ever so gently, against the side of her breast, she moans and pulls away.

Slumped over, she breathes in deep, trying to catch her air and calm a heart lunging itself against her ribs with passionate force. A brief touch to her shoulder, and she looks up into Koda’s concerned eyes. “I’m…I’m….ok,” she pants. “Just gotta….woah.”

“What’s wrong? Are you alright?” Koda’s voice carries an edge to it, and that edge gets through to Kirsten on some level.

Taking in a deep breath, she straightens, and lets it out slowly. “Yes, I’m fine. It just…caught me by surprise.”

Koda cocks her head in question.

In response, Kirsten lifts a slightly trembling hand and lays it against Dakota’s silken cheek. “I have never, ever felt like this before. Never. Physically, emotionally, it’s like…it’s like dangling over the edge of a cliff and the bottom’s nowhere in sight.” She meets Koda’s gaze directly, willing her to understand. “It scared me for a moment.”

Dakota smiles, and turns her head just slightly so that her lips rest against Kirsten’s palm. “I understand,” she murmurs, kissing the hand on her face.

“You do?”

The smile broadens. “I do.” Moving forward, she places the tenderest of kisses on Kirsten’s reddened lips, then pulls away. “C’mon. Let’s get ready for work.”

Grasping Kirsten’s hands, Koda pulls them both up to their feet. The young scientist steps forward and wraps her arms around Dakota’s firm body and holds tight for several moments. “Thank you,” she finally murmurs against the cloth covering Koda’s chest. She pulls back slightly, looking up at the tall woman. “Do you think that maybe…we would come back here again sometime?”

“Count on it,” Koda replies, kissing the crown of Kirsten’s hair. “Count on it.”

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

KODA RUNS HER hands over the small cat’s body, pressing gently against her sides and abdomen. Despite her ordeal of the evening before, Sister Matilda’s black fur is glossy as a raven’s wing, her white bib and muzzle pristine. She has hardly stopped purring since delivering her kittens last night, and all her bones vibrate with the rumbling. Koda has given up on the stethoscope, resorting to the old fashioned method of counting her respirations and the beats of her heart by compressions of her ribs. She is pleased to find them close to normal; there is no real sign of trouble in the belly, either. The new mother’s uterus is a bit loose, but nursing her litter of six should help to firm it up without further intervention.

“All right, girl. Let’s get another dose of good old Penicillin in you, just as a precaution.” Koda leaves her lying on the exam table, small paws kneading the empty air, to fill a syringe from the vial in the countertop fridge. Compared to the bobcat, Sister Matilda is an ideal patient, content to stay where she is put and to accept human attempts at help with aplomb. Koda rubs her ears, then lifts her scruff and slips the needle in. The purr never misses a beat.

The evening before, she had cried with her distress, and so had little Daphne Burgess. Koda had accompanied the Sergeant to his home, made her initial examination, and brought cat and human family all back to the clinic. Sister Matilda’s labor had arrested several hours before, but there had been no blockage of the birth canal. Despite her small frame and enormous belly, so round she could hardly turn herself over without all four feet leaving the exam table, Koda had found no reason why she could not deliver normally. An injection of Oxytocin had started contractions again almost immediately, and within two hours she had become the happy mother of sextuplets.

Emphasis on the sex part: not one kitten looks like any other. One yellow longhair, one calico shorthair, one solid smoky grey, one black with white paws like his mother, one all white with a stubby Manx tail and one that looks suspiciously like a Maine Coon Cat. “Got around a bit there, didn’t you girl?” Koda remarks as she lays her back among her brood.