Free Starfire by Kate Douglas

deceptively desolate landscape, and dark gravel defined the driveway from the main road to the garage.
    “Would you like to go outside?”
    Selyn’s head snapped around, and she stared at him. “We can do that? Go out in the sunlight? Shouldn’t we be here to wait for them to bring,” she paused and flipped her hand in a careless gesture, “him. That one?”
    “The chancellor?” Daws shook his head. “We’re just going out in the front. No farther than the patio. We’ll see them coming long before they arrive.”
    He held out his hand, not really expecting her to take it, but when Selyn slipped her warm fingers into his, he tightened his grip almost possessively. At the last minute, he tucked his cell phone in his pocket, and then led her toward the door that led out to the covered patio area in front of his house.
    The dog snored and stretched out on her back. Her feet twitched as if she chased rabbits in her sleep. Dawson wondered if the sprite slept when her host did, or if she was in there, metaphorically tapping her tiny foot, impatiently waiting for action. Smiling, Dawson shut the screen door. BumperWillow would let him know if she wanted out.
    When Selyn would have continued on to the rocky path, he tugged lightly on her hand. “We need to get some shoes for you before you try walking in the desert. See those?” He pointed at a prickly pear cactus growing beside the pathway. Needles stuck out in all directions. A few old pads lay on the ground, covered with sharp spines. “You don’t want to step on any of them.”
    “I can see that.” She laughed, but there was a sense of sadness to the sound. “So different from what I’m used to. All of the plants grow in containers in our world. Pathways are kept clean. There’s nothing like this, so wild and unkempt.” She slanted him a bright glance. “I like this. It’s so big, and there is so much color. And sunlight.”
    She spread her arms wide and lifted her face to the sky. Daws watched her, enthralled by the sensual pleasure she took in the warm, afternoon sunlight and fresh, dry, desert air. It was almost painful to drag his gaze away from her, but he had to.
    It was either divert his attention or pull her into his arms, and that wouldn’t do. Not at all. Angry with the direction his thoughts kept straying, he stared out across the desert, at the sparse trees and scrubby brush, the soaring rocks scoured by wind and rain, and he thought of all that Selyn had never seen, the things she’d never felt. Sunlight on her skin, the cold splash of rain, the chill from a winter’s wind.
    A man’s hands, not raised in anger.
    The thought of what that bastard had done to her had his entire body tensing up. He clenched his hands into tight fists, fully aware he really wanted to kill the one who had hurt her. He’d never felt such anger toward another man in his entire life, especially a man he didn’t know, but it was real, and it burned hot and heavy inside him.
    A loud “char, char, char,” rising in volume caught Selyn’s attention. She turned to Dawson, frowning. “What’s that?”
    He pointed to a brown bird streaked with white, perched amid the sharp spears of a desert yucca. “Cactus wren.”
    “And that?” She pointed at a small fluff of brown fur on the rocky ground below the bird.
    “That’s a cottontail. They’re rabbits. See that?” He pointed to a man-made pond on the far side of the yard. At one time it had been full of goldfish, but they’d not done well with the desert heat. Now he kept water for the wildlife that needed a safe place for a drink, and mosquito fish to keep the bugs under control. “The pond draws lots of wildlife. Look in the shade of the shrub. Do you see them? Over there.”
    He hadn’t noticed them at first, but a small group of javalinas had found a cool spot beside the garage. “There are five little guys that have been coming in for water. It looks like they decided to hang around today.”
    “What are