Page 27

Chapter Sixteen

“Your markers are stabilizing,” Qaff said, his finger an inch above his tablet like Wren had caught him mid-task. “I have communicated with the lima kuu—”

“Who?” She scowled.

“Our great teachers.”

“Wonderful,” she said on an exhale. “Why not show everyone what an oddity I am?” She bit her lip. Qaff was doing his best to help her. He didn’t need her pissy attitude. Sexually frustrated was more like it. “Sorry,” she muttered.

“You would call them our medical experts,” Cylo said, running his fingers through her now-blonde hair.

“Oh,” she said, dipping her head. “So, if the changes are slowing, what does this mean?” She pointed at her hair. “My eyes are undecided on what color they should be, and I’m still purple.”

“You could wake up tomorrow your original self.” Qaff shrugged. “I cannot foresee what will happen.”

“Are you saying I’ll be able to control my physical attributes, like make my hair pink?” Her scalp tingled in anticipation. She snorted. What an awesome superpower. “How long until we reach Issneen?”

“Eight days or so,” Cylo said.

“Shit. That long?” She glanced at him, wondering how she would fill her time. A sexathon was off the menu. Argh. Losing herself in orgasms would’ve been distracting. Who was she kidding? With Cylo it would be mind-blowing.

“Let us eat our morning meal,” Cylo said, drawing her out of her thoughts.

“Breakfast,” she said, “as in break your fast.” But despite the irritation buzzing through her, she headed to the rehydrate. Today, she’d do the works: bacon, eggs, syrup-drizzled waffles, coffee.

Sitting at the table while Cylo tucked into a sauce-drenched rump steak, she stared at her plate. Keeping herself fed would help her recovery. She knew that but just couldn’t start on the mountain of food she’d ordered. With coffee in hand, she sipped and waited for hunger to strike.

When he arched a brow at her, she chose a strip of bacon and bit it. She sucked in a sharp breath through her nostrils, lowered her cup, and picked up the fork. A mouthful of everything followed.

“Smells intriguing,” he said when she shoveled in another bite of sweet-and-golden waffle.

“I could never afford this on Demeter. All my tokens went to coffee and noodles.” She grinned and swirled the fork at her half-empty plate.

Not that she’d mention splice, but yeah, that had taken a chunk of her earnings, too.

That was behind her, and she’d keep it that way. Thankfully, Pierce hadn’t mentioned it.

She narrowed her eyes on Cylo, trying to sense what mood he was in. Nothing was reaching her. Maybe she’d lost the ability when she’d re-dyed her hair? A girl could hope. “Why can’t I pick up on your emotions?”

“I am eating. Should I be feeling something?” He cradled a metal cup filled with what smelled like lemon juice.

“No, I suppose not.” She frowned at her plate, lowered the fork, and took up her cold coffee.

“I have Olin investigating your situation.”

“Huh?” she asked. “Qaff’s doing a great—”

“E.A.F.’s involvement in your past.”

“Oh,” she said, lowering her cup. “Wish him the best. I couldn’t find anything to save my ass.”

“If you are a Dar Eth, Etteria will fight for you.” Cylo leaned in to catch her gaze. “Regardless, I will ensure you are freed.”

“It’s sweet of you to try.” She smiled, strangely grateful for his conviction crossing the table to bathe her in confidence.

“Sweet?” He snapped his mouth shut, then grimaced. “It is honorable.”

“Yeah, it’s that, too.” She scooped up her plate and carried it to the disposal unit.

He joined her, his chest brushing across her back. “Want to speak to Olin?”

She spun, almost smashing into him. “You think he would’ve found something already?”

Cylo shrugged. “We will not know unless we ask.”

He gestured to the bridge and led the way, thank the Lord.

It gave her the opportunity to admire his ass in his tight uniform and blessed her with a few seconds to catch her breath.

That he would champion her was something she hadn’t expected.

He couldn’t do the impossible, but just his support…

Well… She blinked to stop the tears from forming.

For once, Fyca wasn’t at the console. The only man on the bridge looked up from a table to the side.

“I have discovered nothing yet other than a short vid of a male in military uniform visiting your housing unit,” he said, confirming his identity as Olin.

“What?” she squeaked, hurrying across to him.

“Evidence? E.A.F. claimed that my all-night coding, poor eating habits, and lack of Vitamin D convinced me that he was real.” On the table, a hologram formed of the general who’d broken into her home.

It wasn’t footage of her living room and therefore their conversations, but it did show his comings and goings.

She squealed and danced on the spot, too happy to contain her joy.

“This just might work. Please,” she gripped Olin’s forearm, “don’t stop looking.

The more we have, the better. If we can get the charges against me dropped, I’ll be able to see my family without spending time in a cell. ”

“Agreed,” Olin said and glanced at her hand.

She snatched it back and almost curtsied like a peasant asking forgiveness from her liege. Fyca and Brenda returned then, giving her a chance to escape any more embarrassment.

“Thanks again, Olin,” she said and marched off, heading for the common. There, over another coffee, she’d consider what she could do to stay entertained. She was tempted to ask Qaff to knock her out in the med-E.D. Time flew by when she slept like she’d done on the Yithian ship.

Ignoring Cylo trailing her, she veered toward the med bay. “Tell me, is there a way to make me sleep?”

Qaff snapped his head up. “I beg your pardon, milady?”

“I hate boredom, Qaff. What am I going to do for eight days?”

He chuckled, his eyes wide in disbelief. “So, you want me to sedate you?”

“Is it possible?” she asked, gripping the edge of the bed at the center of the med bay.

“No.” Cylo glowered. “That is not acceptable.”

“Find something to do,” Qaff said, glancing between Cylo and her then at his tablet.

She threw her hands into the air. “What? Eat? Drink?” She gripped her hips and mumbled, “Have you seen the size of my ass?” No way could she eat her way through this.

They blinked at her. Confusion rolled off Qaff, but anger flowed from Cylo. She glanced between them. They couldn’t have heard her, right?

“We have gathered all of what Earth finds entertaining.” Cylo gestured to the display vid.

“You have music, movies?” She beamed. “Why didn’t you say so?”

Cylo pursed his lips, his nostrils flaring. “What did you do before the Yithians stole you?”

“I tended my bonsai, read novels, made jewelry.” She laughed. “Tormented Pierce with space jumps that ended up getting me kidnapped.”

“Bonsai,” both men repeated, followed by flickering eyelids.

Qaff smiled. “Ah, those we cannot replicate since they are living plants.”

She threw out her hands. “What just happened? Why did your eyelashes flutter?”

“That occurs when the O.D.I. instructs us on the meaning of a new word or subject we are unfamiliar with,” Cylo said.

“It can do that?” She waved her forearm. “What else does it do?”

“It carries language protocols and synchronizes your Earthian comms to the ship. It also serves as a locator beacon and a communicator.” Qaff offered his back while he moved from screen to screen. “A few Dar Eths have relocated their…tokens?”

‘Wow,’ she mouthed. “Mine already has that, but the language protocols intrigue me. Please…just in case, load Yithian and Maloidian.”

Cylo scowled. “You believe we cannot protect you?”

“Of course not,” she said, squeezing his upper arm then releasing him when his muscles twitched beneath her touch. She barely resisted shaking her tingling fingers. “I’ve seen you in action, remember. But it’s better to be prepared than to be taken by surprise.”

He cupped her cheek, his touch sending a frisson of heat through her. “You speak the truth.” Sliding his hand down her neck, along her collarbone to her forearm, he activated her O.D.I. and shuffled through the options.

Despite her blood buzzing from his caress, she gaped; her focus zeroed in on what he chose.

Why hadn’t she stumbled upon these hidden functions?

In honesty, she hadn’t thought the device held more functionality than the bare minimum.

And the E.A.F. considered her dangerous?

Shit, had he said locator? She stiffened.

Had Pierce known about this? Was that his around-the-clock Turner duty?

And did that mean E.A.F. could find her?

“Can you disable the locator?” she asked, her voice husky.

“Why?” Cylo snapped his gaze up but didn’t release her forearm.

“What if E.A.F. track me to Issneen?” She closed her eyes to draw in calming breaths, then glanced at Qaff.

“I…don’t want to go to prison, but I don’t want to cause an incident either.

What if I’m the catalyst for a war?” She scoffed.

“Never mind, I’m not Helen of Troy. Still, how many will be inconvenienced when E.A.F. ’s battleships are orbiting Etteria?”

“You do not grasp how important you are to our people.” Qaff flicked through charts, his voice low as if he was lost in thought. “Our king would deny E.A.F. permission to land, even if it starts a war, all on the chance you become a Dar Eth and save a male.”

“Oh,” she said, her mind reeling. Male or female, Cylo had said. Etteria was that desperate? She hadn’t realized that when she’d read the digi-mags articles on Etterians and their agenda.

“I have restricted your locator to the ship, for now,” Qaff said, not glancing at her.

Relief hit her, and she offered the man a grateful smile. She couldn’t say he was rude when he was far from it, but not looking at her was starting to worry her.

“Understand me?” Cylo hissed.

Gasping, she faced him, her mouth falling open. “Are we speaking Yithian?” To her ears, the sibilant sounds were too familiar. “Am I?”

He chuckled. “Yes. Come, I have a lump of gold you can have.”

She frowned, unable to register what he’d said. “Did you say gold?”

“I mined it on my last drone run. Perhaps the replicator can create the tools you need?” When he headed to the passage leading to the barracks, she followed.

“You want me to make a piece of jewelry?” she asked, double-stepping to keep up with him.

“I know nothing about such things. Choose a project that is time-consuming.” He entered his room and picked up a chunk of gold just lying there on his table.

“Do you know how much this is worth?” she stuttered when he caught her hand and placed the lump on her palm.

He shrugged. “If it will keep you busy.”

She clutched the gold to her chest. His generosity astounded her. Maybe she could make something for him? A thick bracelet? A necklace? Would he wear it? “Thank you, Cylo. I cannot say how much this means to me.”

“No gratitude is needed.” He met her gaze, conveying how this meant nothing to him: no regret, dismay, or obligation reached her. “Now, what else do you need to do this?”

“Tools,” she whispered, shock strangling her throat.

He nodded. “As expected. My knife-making has its own requirements.”

“Knife—” She bit her lip, once more tripping after him. Drone-mining and blade-smithing? What else did this man do in his spare time besides rescue kidnapped women?

He led her through the common to a door on the side.

The empty bay had high ceilings, and black crates clung to the metallic walls as if magnetized.

A shiver at the cooler temp didn’t distract her when he veered toward a workbench mounted at the rear of the bay.

Beside it was a low counter with a replicator.

He activated it. “Order what you need.”

She blinked at the menu, unsure how to phrase the tools in Etterian terms. Would they know what nylon-tipped pliers were?

He waited, patient, so she typed in what she was looking for, all while clutching the gold to her chest. A pile of tools formed, in better quality than the second-hand tools she’d managed to scrounge on Demeter.

“I…think that’s it,” she said.

“Good.” He touched the ridged corner of a metal panel.

It slid open to reveal an empty cube-shaped closet.

“Here is where you can store these.” He pointed at the bench.

“That is where you can work.” He caught her free hand and urged her to stand in front of a flat circle on the grated floor.

“Touch here…” He pressed a thumb-sized ridge on the bench’s bull-nosed edging.

A bar stool rose out of the floor. It stopped just short of reaching her butt.

“Release the button when it is at the correct height for you.”

With a trembling hand, she placed the lump on the rubberized workbench. She faced him, slipped her arms around his waist, and pressed her cheek to his chest. “Thank you.”

He crushed her to him without harming her. “It is honorable to make you happy.”

She shook her head. “You are the only one who thinks like that, Cylo.” She pulled back and turned away to hide her tears.

He grasped her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. “I did not do this to upset you, ensa.”

He gazed into her eyes. Time slowed, and her breathing became labored.

A slight smirk curled his lip moments before he caught hers in a sweet kiss.

Her heartbeat thundered in her ears as she melted against him, unable to resist the lure of his warm and solid chest. The strength of his arms he trapped her within only seemed to add to the sense of security engulfing her.

“I’m not sad,” she managed when he broke the kiss. “These are tears of joy.” She chuckled, flicking a swipe across her cheek.

He frowned and released her. “You speak truth?”

“Yeah, women cry for all sorts of reasons.” She looped her arm through his and almost dragged him toward the common. “Come, I’m thirsty.” Because if this man was alone with her a second longer, she just might succumb to this attraction between them. And to hell with the consequences.

“But…” He let her lead him away.

She rested her temple on his bicep, hiding a smile. No man she’d ever known could compare to him.