Page 28 of Master (The Outlander Book Club… in Space! #3)

Clara

I could not do three days.

Three hours seemed impossible.

Three minutes was difficult; honestly, three seconds was about all I could handle.

Despite my constant worry for those stuck outside, there was another, larger reason why being trapped in this basement had me on edge.

Tarook.

Something changed between us last night. It felt tangible, as though the air between us thickened with each breath. I just didn’t know what to name it… or what my next move should be.

I wanted him.

I would not lie to myself about it any longer. I wanted him… a lot. I just didn’t know what to do about it. I thought about grabbing him like I did on the Hartouk Lenaii, but that was an uncommon situation, and things were different now. I couldn’t just pounce. Could I?

No. I couldn’t.

Even when I danced practically naked on a stage, I wasn’t what most considered forward . It took poor Curtis six months to convince me to go out for coffee with him. I’d fucked Tarook without knowing his name, certainly going at our relationship backward.

Relationship?

Did Tarook and I have a relationship? We were friends, but deep in my heart, I knew it felt like something more. I liked him. How much I liked him both scared and intrigued me.

Maybe I should wait for Tarook to make the first move.

I hadn't stretched my dating muscle in nearly forty years, but I don't think it had completely rusted. He wanted me sexually. That much was obvious. He wanted to protect me. The way he drew me close anytime I felt distressed told me he empathized with my emotions. Maybe it was just a matter of time. Shouldn’t being locked in a basement alone together, surviving an attack of chemical warfare be romantic… at least according to every forced proximity romance novel I’d ever read.

Unfortunately, our first night together centered more on survival than romance.

We’d rummaged through the storage closet as the first order of business.

Mei wasn’t kidding when she said she practically lived in her research area.

We found bottled water, food—dried meat and crackers—bedding for the cot, and I’d found a pair of well-worn pale green scrubs.

The red dress was gorgeous but completely inappropriate for survival situations.

No wonder the women in tight dresses and high heels were the first to get polished off by serial killers.

We slept together on the cot last night, but I dozed off the minute my head hit the pillow.

I awoke once in the night, wrapped safely in Tarook’s arms. When I opened my eyes this morning, Tarook milled about, leaving a breakfast of dried meat and oatmeal out for me while he took inventory of our supplies.

Seriously? Was I mad that Tarook didn’t linger in bed with me?

Yes.Yes I was.

To keep my mind off the imagining of horrors unfolding outside and lusting over the hot body inside, I busied myself by reading Mei’s research notes, even though the scientific community considered reading another scientist's research before publication taboo.

Normally, I considered myself well-versed when it came to botany.

Mei was either a genius, or I was a whole lot dumber than I realized.

While I got the gist of her experiments, many of her methods regarding scientific experimentation went over my head.

Of course, if I stopped sneaking lusty peeks at Tarook, it might help my focus.

“What are you doing?” Tarook didn’t turn from where he gazed out the window. The bluster ceased overnight, and now powder lay like thick snow on the ground. He stood vigil, looking for any sign of movement… anything to suggest those who dropped the drug showed up to survey their handiwork.

“Reading Mei’s research notes.” I turned the page and added honestly. “It's fascinating.”

“She works with plants… correct?”

He wandered closer, inspecting the different paraphernalia littering the tabletop.

“Correct.”

His body emitted a pleasant, enticing warmth as Tarook stood just behind my shoulder, peering over my shoulder at the journal opened before me.

“Mei’s research seeks to make Earth vegetables adapt to harsher alien climates by using a plant’s innate self-defense systems. Some plants—sweet potatoes like Buck and Lula grow—have very good defense systems and do better than others.”

Tarook gave an incredulous snort. “Earth plants are prone to violence?”

“It’s not that kind of defense, silly.” I giggled, nudging his arm with my elbow.

Tarook’s bicep was so muscular it felt like stone.

“Some plants give off chemical scents to deter predators… keeping bugs away, that sort of thing. Mei’s research bolsters a plant’s natural defenses to withstand larger, alien predators. ”

Come to think of it, I hadn’t seen many alien bugs lurking about. That awful snake-rat thing was the only rodent I’d noticed, and it didn’t seem the least bit interested in plant life.

“Mei’s research determines whether a plant has an inducible or constitutive defense and if she could use artificial means to bolster the output.”

“You’re very smart.” Tarook’s chest pressed against my shoulder as he bent to peer more closely at the journal.

“Not me,” I laughed awkwardly. He was too close, but not close enough.

Ugh, I needed to get a grip.

“Mei’s the brilliant one. I’m pretty good at botany, but some of this stuff is over my head.”

“Definitely over my head,” Tarook chuckled, stepping away. My body at once mourned the loss of warmth. “I think I’ll rummage about in the storage closet and see if I can find something other than dried meat and crackers.

My gaze flickered to the bins of vegetables occupying the corner.

Potatoes, corn, squash… all awaited whatever experiments Mei conducted.

My uncertainty about whether Mei had already chemically treated the vegetables held me back from suggesting that we snack on them.

Of course, if Tarook didn’t find more food, I might need to reconsider.

The storage room door groaned in the opening, and I tried to quell my guilt at pilfering her stores.

As a foster child, no matter how long one lived with a family, there was always something off-limits.

Something that kept the line between family and not family drawn, however miniscule.

Curtis and I shared every part of our lives together, and yet when I cleared out his office in the days following the funeral, it felt like an encroachment.

Amid the scuffle and scrape of things moving about, curious sounds of “ooh,” “ahh,” and “hmm” had me pressing my lips together in amusement.

“Look at this!”

Tarook appeared from the bowels ofthe closet, carrying a large box that he brought to a nearby table, scooting a few beakers aside to make room.

“Wow,” I uttered, raising myself high enough to look down into the cardboard treasure trove.

Several cans of Chef Boy-ar-dee ravioli, SpaghettiOs, and assorted canned vegetables took up the bottom of the box.

A jar of peanut butter and strawberry jam sat next to a sleeve of crackers.

Several dog-eared Harlequin romances and a couple of Stephen King novels rounded out the contents, along with a large box of a popular apocalyptic treat—Twinkies.

“What is this?” Tarook’s eyes widened at the box’s photo of the bullet-shaped yellow cake.

“Twinkies,” I chuckled, reaching for a much healthier entrée—SpaghettiOs. “They’re like cake… sweet.”

“I like sweets.” Tarook’s eyebrows waggled.

“I would never have known,” I feigned aghast. “You only ate half the berry cobbler Lula made the other night.”

Tarook reached into the box, pulling out a cellophane-wrapped bar of gold.

He glanced at me sheepishly before ripping into the packaging and raising the Twinkie to his nose with reverence.

He took a deep inhale. Personally, I didn’t want to think about what the Twinkie smelled like or how old it was.

Tarook didn’t have my misgivings. A wash of pure bliss came over his face as he ate the small cake in one bite.

A low moan of pleasure broke from deep within his chest. I’d heard that sound before…

when we had sex on the Hartouk Lenaii. So, sex with me was at least as pleasurable to him as eating a Twinkie.

Ugh.

Thankfully, there was a small can opener in the box. Using a Bunsen burner and beaker, I fixed a lunch of SpaghettiOs and peanut butter crackers to accompany Tarook’s new Twinkie obsession.

We ate as we puttered. My attention turned to Mei’s notes on which was better to induce a plant’s chemical response… clipping or introducing inspects in a controlled environment. Tarook sat vigil by the window.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Tarook’s voice brought me out of my study. Only the soreness of my neck indicated how long I’d read. He was reading, too. Perched on a chair by the window, a dog-eared book lay open in his lap.

“Sure.”

“What’s kissing?”

My gaze dropped to the book he held, eyes involuntarily widening. Stephen King novels It and The Stand were in that box, and he’d grabbed a romance.

“Um.”

“There is so much of it in this book.” He frowned, the query obviously a serious one. “I wish to understand why the act turns sane characters into...”

“Blithering idiots?” I guessed, recalling the plot of nearly every romance novel I’d ever read.

“Yes, after a fashion,” Tarook grinned.

I’d spent my adult life inspiring bright young minds…

well truthfully, it was more like finding ways to engage bored teenagers who spent more time worrying about a social media presence than the world around them.

Despite the difficulty, I’d been a good teacher.

This was nothing more than a teaching assignment.

Tarook was my pupil, and the subject was kissing.

It was no different than explaining any other biological function.

I just wish my brain would convince my body of that fact. My palms felt sweaty, and the most curious tingling sensation settled low in my belly.