She smiles and shakes her head. “Hunky-dory, and the point of pain is to keep us aware of our bodies' limits. Ignoring it isn’t doing you any good. Trust me.” As she leans back on her hands, a horrifying sound emanates from somewhere in her body.
I shoot upright, terrified. “What was that? Where are you hurt?”
A barking laugh shakes through her, and I frown. I’ve clearly missed the joke.
“That was my stomach.”
Stomach? “Why would it make such a sound?”
“It happens when I’m hungry. Does your stomach not make sounds when you’re hungry?”
“Not unless I eat a speaker.”
Her eyes narrow and she tilts her head. “Wait, have you done that?”
After a few minutesin the kitchen, I have a decent spread of foods prepared and laid out on the table. I know she will eat almost anything, but I want her to enjoy food, not just tolerate it. And, with so many options, she can tell me what she enjoys the most. We are lucky, this ship is equipped with supplies to last a year of travel. We do not have to ration, and there are many options. Including fresh fruit.
Deep maroon juice spills from the veladoo as I cut it into bite-sized chunks. It really is the same color as her lips, and I cannot help but smile at that.
“Smells good.”
I turn and find Amara in the doorway, wearing one of my tunics as a knee-length dress. Her dark hair is mussed and her eyes are still heavy with sleep. I feel a thud next to my foot, but I am too transfixed by Amara to look away.
“That was close,” she says, glancing down.
In two steps, I have her in my arms and pressed up against the bulkhead, my mouth claiming hers. She is irresistible. Her legs grip my waist and she groans into my mouth. The sound is quiet, but it’s enough to ignite a deep hunger. A hunger that will have to wait.
With a sigh, I lower her to the ground and lead her to the table. “I made a little bit of everything. This way you can tell me what you like.”
Her eyes go wide. “Oh, wow. That’s … thank you.”
It’s obvious shewasn’t expecting this, and her excitement and gratitude have me swelling with pride. Eager to add the veladoo, I turn and almost kick a knife stuck blade-side down in the deck. I retrieve it, and after a moment of confusion, I realize what happened. That is what she meant by “close”. I almost stabbed my own foot.
With the veladoo added to the table, I start introducing her to the different foods.
“Oh shit,” she says, holding a hand over her mouth after taking a large bite of theyazvacake, “that’s really good.”
“And now, this,” I say, holding up a slice of veladoo. She lets me place the fruit in her mouth, and her eyes go wide as she starts to chew.
“What is that?” she asks.
“Veladoo.”
Recognition spreads and she smiles. “To be honest, I never thought I’d live long enough to taste it. It’s amazing.”
I take a sip of tea and smile, trying to ignore the painful reminder of how close we came to death. “I am glad that is not how our story en?—”
An alarm screams, cutting me off mid-sentence. I push off from the table and jog to the bridge. Yellow alerts flash across the view-screen, warning that our comms are back online and someone has breached the security filters.
47
UNKNOWN SENDER
AMARA
AN ALARM SOUNDS from somewhere in the ship, and suddenly, Vexar’s gone. I swear he’s way too fast for his size. I pop the last piece of veladoo into my mouth and follow him to the bridge, licking my fingers and wincing as my swollen feet protest each step. The alarm stops as I round the corner and find Vexar leaning over the control panel, radiating anxiety.
“What’s going on?” I ask cautiously.
