She reached up to grab a mug from the shelf. It was too big for her hands, made for someone his size but she didn’t care. The way she felt, she could drink a bucket of the stuff and still not be properly awake. The kasta was dark and bitter when she sipped it. Nothing like coffee, but hot enough to burn her tongue in a good way.
Sighing in relief, she wrapped both hands around the mug and let the warmth seep into her frozen fingers. Then she looked up. He still hadn’t put on a shirt.
“Do you...” She gestured vaguely at his chest. “Aren’t you cold?”
“No.”
Right. Alien physiology, he must not feel the cold or something like a normal person. She took another sip and tried not to notice the way his muscles moved when he reached for his own mug. Tried and failed.
Movement outside the window caught her eye. There were bright streaks across the orange sky, too fast and too straight to be anything natural. “What’s that?”
He followed her gaze and shrugged. “The transport leaving.”
The mug slipped in her hands. The transport she’d arrived on was leaving. Right now. The transport arced across the sky and disappeared over the mountains. She was alone. The kasta tasted like ash in her mouth.
“They’ll be back in six weeks.” Goraath’s voice was flat.
Six weeks. Forty-two days. She set the mug down before she dropped it. “I should… I need to…”
What? What did she need to do?
“I need to decorate.” The words came out too bright. “Do you have any… I don’t know, greenery? Plants I could use? Or fabric scraps?”
He stared at her. “Decorate for what?”
“Christmas.”
His brow furrowed. “What’s Christmas?”
She gaped at him.
“It’s—don’t you know what Christmas is?”
“No.”
Right. Alien. Different planet. Different culture. She’d known that intellectually, but somehow it hadn’t clicked that he wouldn’t know about Earth holidays.
“It’s a celebration. On Earth. In winter.” She wrapped her hands around the mug again, needing the warmth. It was so frigging cold in here. “It’s about... hope. And light in the darkness. And gathering with family. We decorate, exchange gifts, make special food. It’s… it’s important.”
He took a long drink from his mug, those strange eyes never leaving her face. “Why would you celebrate the coldest, harshest season?”
“Because that’s when we need hope the most.”
Something flickered in his expression and he shrugged again. “We have our own midwinter celebration here.” He set his mug down with a solid thunk. “Perhaps you should learn about that instead of trying to recreate Earth traditions.”
Her spine stiffened. “I can do both.”
“You’re not on Earth anymore.”
“I know that.”
“Then adapt.”
Adapt. Just give up something that made her feel human and become someone else.
“Christmas is part of who I am.” Her voice stayed level through sheer force of will. “I’m not giving it up just because you don’t understand it.”
His jaw tightened. That tiny muscle at the corner pulsed. “This is my house. My world. You’re a guest here.”
