Page 23 of Doran

I nodded, happy to oblige, though confused as to why she suddenly seemed unnerved. It had to be the mention of venom. She must fear my bite would cause her pain. I would be able to reassure her that this was not the case. It would bring us both ecstasy, but Kellran was right. This was not the place to bring up such matters.

“I will take your advice,” I told Kelran. “I will need enough that we will not need to clean them every day, even if I have to change into both types of clothing.”

Kelran rubbed his hands together. “Don’t you worry! I’ll soon get you sorted out!”

14

SARAH

Oh, my gawd.

Kelran had gotten him sorted, alright, in a getup that should have looked as comical as Kelran did. That was not the case with Doran. He strutted out of the lone changing room looking like someone who’d just walked out of a gaslamp urban fantasy novel - chocolate brown trousers that clung to his perfect ass and powerful thighs without being ill fittingly tight, a waistcoat in a soft fawn color that set off his coloring beautifully, and under that a crisp cream colored shirt with a stand up collar that had those two little folded down collar tips framing a bow tie that matched his pants perfectly . A darker brown pair of Chelsea boots graced his feet, their luster gleaming under the shop’s lights. And on top of his head, a bowler hat whose shade matched his boots.

He shifted his weight, glancing away. “I look stupid, don’t I?”

I licked my lips. “Can…can I see your wings out in that?”

He looked startled at the question, and glanced around. “Um, okay, if I move over here, there’s enough room for me to let them free some.”

“The shirt and waistcoat are wing-friendly,” Kelran added, sounding satisfied at my stunned reaction.

Doran stepped over to where he’d indicated and flexed. His wings emerged, and he unfolded them halfway.

“Dear Lord. That’s even worse.”

“It is?” Doran looked dejected, his shoulders slumping, and I felt like a shit for not being clearer.

“Read the room, Doran!” Kelran chuckled, and I blushed, mortified, as Doran lifted his head and sniffed. I knew exactly what they were smelling.

“Ohhh.” Happiness blossomed across his face as Doran tucked his wings back away and turned to the shopkeeper. “Yeah, I’ll take these and the pattern for it all. And a pattern for the jeans, Stetson, work shirts, and that other pair of boots.”

“You got it. Need any base matter?”

“No,” he replied over his shoulder as he returned to the changing room. “That little one there keeps us topped up, and I’ve got all that grass and scrub still where the greenhouse’s got to go to bring once I’ve cleared it.” He pulled the door shut behind him.

“He brings the stuff he’s cleared here?” I asked, unsure if I’d heard that right.

“Yes. I’ve got an industrial sized recycler, so for a small fee, households can use it to fill a matter container. Basically it's rental of the containers, as sometimes someone gets careless and tosses the empties they put in the trailer with their junk and recycles them too.”

“Why not simply replicate new ones and sell them?”

He grinned. “Because I get more credits renting them. If they buy, they bring them back almost every time. If I only charge a rental deposit every time, half the time they forget, or don’t bring enough.”

“I see.” It was rather ingenious, really.

The changing room door opened, and Doran stepped out, dressed once more in the black uniform pants, shirt, and scuffed work boots he’d come in, his new outfit draped over one very sexy bare forearm.

His nostrils flared. “I think we best wrap our transaction up,” he said, and I blushed. I could feel the fire creeping up my neck all the way to the very roots of my hair.

“Ba ba. Ba,” Laura said demandingly. I peered around her stroller to see she was making grabby hands towards Doran, arms up in the air.

“She wants you to pick her up.”

“Ba ba, Dor,” the baby demanded.

“She’s adorable,” Kelran said, smiling down at her. “How old is she?”

“Umm, they said thirteen months and a bit. She can toddle a few steps holding onto stuff, but mostly crawls around and scoots on her butt still. And her speech is still getting there, but she understands most of what we’re saying when we talk to her.”