Page 7 of Touch the Stars (Ghara Empire #1)

Kaitlyn.

T he rapid clack-clack-clack of a knife against a cutting board filled the small kitchen. Or galley, as Not Big Foot called it, and she wasn’t going to dispute. Not with the way he was slicing the vegetables like a master chef.

Or a cold-blooded killer.

Well, that’s morbid.

She gave herself a mental shake, then leaned back into the chair he’d parked her in. Nope, this wasn’t his first cooking rodeo. The guy knew what he was doing and was comfortable doing it, so he got to call the room whatever he wanted.

She cleared her throat. “So, what’s your name?”

Because she couldn’t keep thinking of him as Not Big Foot. Or even Alien Master Chef, for that matter.

“I am Warrior Baatar.” He scooped the chopped stuff into a pan, which sizzled and hissed, filling the room with a savory, crisp aroma of vegetables. Then he moved to stir a pot of bubbling liquid.

“So you’re the crazy driver who bounced me all over the place when we took off.” The guy she’d called Butt-tar.

Hopefully he never found out about that one.

He met her gaze and raised one eyebrow. “Who was it who released your safety straps?”

Oh, so the warrior had a sense of humor, huh? “That’s fair. But, don’t tell me that you would’ve just gone along for the ride in the same situation.”

“That is also fair.”

There it was, that little upward twitch of one corner of his mouth and a glint of humor in his striking eyes.

“Ha.” She propped her elbows on the glossy, white table and rested her chin in her palms. “So, Warrior is your first name?”

“Warrior is my rank, my title. Baatar is my given name.”

“Do you have a last name, Warrior Baatar?”

“Some societies on other planets have clan names, if that is what you ask.” He returned his attention to the pot. “The answer to your question is no. Undetans do not have more than one name.”

“Okay, so how does anyone distinguish you from, say, Shoemaker Baatar? Or Senator Baatar?”

“I am the only Baatar.”

“On your entire planet? There’s no one else named Baatar?” How was that even possible?

“No.”

“That’s crazy.” She waved one hand in the air. “How many people are on your planet?”

He ladled golden liquid from the pot into a bowl. “Twelve point five billion. It is one of the largest and most prosperous planets in the empire.”

“Twelve point five billion, and you’re the only Baatar?” She moved her elbows off the table as he approached.

“I am. No living souls on Undet shares a name.” He set the steaming bowl of broth on the table in front of her. “Now, perhaps, you will tell me your name.”

“Kaitlyn Bergh. You can call me Kaitlyn.”

She wrapped her hands around the bowl, then raised it to her lips and sipped. The liquid slid down her throat, warming her from the inside. It was like chicken broth, only smoother, richer, with an almost creamy texture. But not as thick as the cream soups on Earth.

Another loud growl came from her stomach as the heat hit it. This was getting old.

Baatar watched her with a pleased expression, and her heart did a funny double beat in her chest. “We called it takhi soi . It is a broth native to my world.”

“I call it fucking delicious . Thank you.” She raised the bowl again.

Several metallic taps of a utensil hitting the edge of a pan drew her attention to Baatar’s leather-clad back.

Dayum, his smooth, confident movements at the stove were as mouth-watering as whatever he was cooking now.

She inhaled the aroma of what was sizzling in front of him.

It sort of smelled like bacon, with a hint of pumpkin.

Weird combo, but it had a ninety-nine percent chance of being better than her almost-week-old leftover meatloaf.

“Where’d you learn to cook, Baatar?”

“My father,” he replied.

“Your dad cooks too?”

“Naturally. I have a mother and three sisters. Keeping the females of our family happy is important.” He met her gaze and gave her a wink before returning his attention back to the alien culinary delight in the pan.

“So, you and your dad do all the cooking?” If he was from a matriarchal society, she might be moving.

“Not at all. As with all chores, cooking was a shared duty.” He rotated his arm, and the swish of food swirling around the bottom of the pan was like music to her ears. “Caring for one’s family is the highest of honors.”

An invisible band tightened around her chest. Family. If her parents had lived, would her family have been like Baatar’s? Caring for each other like he cared for his.

Speaking of…

“Where’s my sister?”

He met her gaze. “I tell you again, Kaitlyn, I do not know of your sister.”

There was nothing but honesty in his words. She let her shoulders droop as the fight drained from her.

Baatar plated some of the sizzling food from the pan and set it on the table next to her soup bowl.

Bing.

“Situation update.” The familiar woman’s voice from the cabin filled the galley. “The artificial propellant trail has diverged.”

“In which direction?” Baatar asked to the air.

She leaned forward, keeping her voice at something a little below a stage whisper. “Hey, are there other people aboard this thing?”

“It is the ship’s artificial intelligence,” he murmured back.

“Into the Bajiki Syndicate sector,” the ship replied.

Baatar’s expression hardened, his gaze like ice. Then he turned back to the pan of food on the stove. “Noted. Stay on course for Ghara.”

“So?” She drew out the “o” sound. “What was that all about? A trail of what? And what’s the Bajiki Syndicate sector?”

“The Bajiki Syndicate is an enemy of the Gharan Empire, where I am from.” He scooped out portions of the pan’s contents onto another plate. “They should not be in this area or anywhere near your planet.”

“Then why are they?” She sat back in her seat and folded her arms in front of her. “And, for that matter, why are you here?”

He met her gaze. “I was looking for you. It is possible they were too.”

Say what? There was no way she’d heard that one right.

She gave her head a shake. “Why me?”

Baatar carried the second plate to the table and sat across from her. It was like he was intentionally avoiding eye contact. Her stomach muscles clenched. This couldn’t be good.

“Tell me, Baatar. Why the hell are any of you here, and what have I got to do with it?”

Or Kris, for that matter?

He fiddled with the sharpened chopstick-like utensils he held in his hands and sighed heavily, his gaze locking with hers. “The grand emperor needs an heir.”

“Oh, fucking A...” She made a hand-waving I-knew-it gesture. “I am a sex slave.”

Just not Baatar’s sex slave. Was it wrong to feel a little twinge of disappointment over that?

Revulsion flashed in his eyes. “ No . Never that. Kaitlyn Bergh, you are the heir.”

Say fucking what ? She reached up and gave her translator stone a finger tap, because there had to be a glitch in the technology. Something was not adding up.

“My mission is to bring you safely to Ghara and deliver you into the care of our current grand emperor and the Ancient Ones.”

Wow. Just wow. “So, you’re telling me that there are other aliens after me too?”

“It seems so. Since the Bajiki trail is at least a month old, I must deduce they could not locate you and left.”

“Hold up. You mean they…the Bajiki baddies…were here a month ago? On Earth?”

He nodded. “That is an approximate calculation.”

“Well, fuck me.” She glanced down at the hot food in front of her. She couldn’t eat it. Not now.

“Are you in distress, Kaitlyn?”

“Well, duh .” Distress wasn’t a big enough word. “Kristyn, my twin sister, disappeared a month ago. My identical twin sister. They might have her and think she’s me.”

His gaze darted to her neck. “Does your sister bear the same mark?”

“My birthmark?” She raised her hand, resting her fingertips on it. “No. Have you thought that maybe it was you who picked up the wrong woman?”

Could’ve been Kris he was supposed to kidnap…abduct. Whatever.

“No. You are the one with the mark of the empress.” He returned his attention to his meal. “There is no problem.”

No problem? There was a huge problem, and it was called Kris’s health. Of course, he didn’t know shit about her sister, and barely anything about her, either. What did he care if Kris had been abducted and was dying?

It’s up to me to save her.

But she’d have to convince Baatar to follow that ship first. As the so-called heir of his stupid empire, couldn’t she just order him to follow the other ship’s trail?

“Do not think it.” His words were firm and unyielding, his blue-eyed gaze hard. “The grand emperor still rules, and he is expecting you. You may ask him about your sister after we arrive. He will decide if it is worth the risk to negotiate with the Bajiki for her release.”

Was he a fucking mind reader too? “But, she’s sick—”

“My word is final. Eat now.”

He handed her one of the chopsticks, and a second utensil shaped like a fork, except it had a coved shovel instead of tines.

“This is a shadak .” He pointed at the solitary chopstick. “It is used to pick up food by stabbing the point into it. The other is a shagat for scooping what cannot be picked up.”

Oh, it wasn’t the food she wanted to stab right now. But since he was so damn much larger than her, and there was no way to escape…

She jabbed the shadak into a chunk of meat then slid it into her mouth.

It was like a savory flavor bomb went off in her mouth.

Bacon, onion, and yes, a faint hint of pumpkin.

A few other spices, too, ones that didn’t compare to anything she knew.

She closed her eyes and allowed herself a groan of pleasure.

“You are welcome.” A smug undertone wove through Baatar’s words.

She gave him a mutinous glare. Fine. Let the cold-hearted son of a bitch think he was in control. For now. One way or another, she was going after Kris.