“Good to know. Does it bother you that I eat meat?” I didn’t think I was that attached to meat, so if it truly bothered him, I’d stop.
He shook his head, tucking a wayward strand of black hair behind his pointed ear. “As long as I don’t have to hunt it, I don’t care.”
I didn’t see why you’d have to hunt in space. There were machines that made fabricated food out of roots. Like food that looked and tasted like anything you wanted, but the onlyingredients were roots and water. Granted, that was only used on starships on long deep space exploration voyages, but it was still an option.
“No hunting, understood.”
I ate another pastry, watching Rema eat. He was still in his loincloth, his bulk taking up most of the couch, probably staining it irreparably with all the gunk covering him. He was like a filthy muscled barbarian right now. His biceps bulged every time he brought his fork to his mouth. Half of his hair was plastered to his skull in an oily mess, while the other half was tangled and disheveled from fighting. He’d never been sexier.
“You said you enjoyed painting. What do you paint?” I asked, to keep from launching myself across the coffee table and riding my winged barbarian like a rodeo bull. A flower bloomed on my wrist.
Rema inhaled, shooting me a wary glance before putting his plate on the coffee table. “I paint many things. I have several paintings of you, actually. After we shower, can I show them to you?”
His eyes met mine, silver pools of soft emotions that drifted around the room in a spicy sweet flavor that I wanted to lap up.
“I’d love that,” I told him sincerely.
We finished our meal in companable silence, after which Rema escorted me to my bathroom, wryly turned down my request for a back scrub, and left to his own rooms to clean up.
I was still smiling when I stepped into the shower, a tube-like thing that could have easily fit ten people in it, and waved my hand over the sensor. Instantly warm water rained down on me from above and I set about washing myself, marveling at how nasty the water was as it pooled at my feet before being sucked down the drain with a whoosh of air. Once clean, I turned the water off to scrub my scales with oil and brush, before turning the water back on to wipe myself off with a washcloth.
With that finished, I got out of the shower, dried, oiled myself up within an inch of my life to make extra special sure my scales didn’t dry out, and then dressed in some comfy pajama pants and a loose tunic shirt before skipping through my rooms and out the door into the hallway. Rema’s door was open so I continued inside. The apartment was a mirror image of mine, complete with a balcony, only this room was more masculine with dark brown furniture and warm colors like oranges and reds. Rema was sitting on the couch, his long hair braided and pulled over his shoulder to dangle to his thigh. He was looking especially delicious wearing only loose fitted pants. His chest really was something to write sonnets about. I’d make a filthy poem about him later.
He was holding a leather bound book in his hand, and looked up at me with a soft smile when I crossed the room to take a seat next to him.
“Are these your paintings?” I asked, gesturing to the leather book. It was large, reminding me of those big coffee table books I’d seen in magazines.
He nodded, brushing a hand over the cover. “Yes. I try to bring art supplies with me whenever I can, and I’ve managed to paint some of my memories before they lose their sharpness.”
He opened the book, and the first picture had me straightening, my hand reaching for it before my conscious thoughts could stop me.
It was a painting of me, when I’d first arrived on the Solus. He’d painted the others who’d been standing in front of me as blurry figures, with me the only clear part of the picture. Each brush stroke was precise, the colors vibrant and well blended. I bit the inside of my mouth, my gaze staring into my old blue eyes that he’d painted so richly.
“Rema, I don’t know much about art, but this is amazing,” I whispered, trailing a finger lightly down my painted cheek.
He shifted in his seat. “Thank you. Though you are easy to paint, as seared into my mind as you are.”
I laughed softly, turning the page. I inhaled sharply as Ohem’s glowing yellow eyes glared at me from a black background, the brushstrokes wide and choppy. Goosebumps spread, my scalp tingling.
“Wow, he is intense as hell, isn’t he?”
Rema chuckled wryly. “That, I believe, is an understatement. This is an older painting, one I did shortly after I commissioned into the Fleet.”
I turned the page quickly, ready to be out of Ohem’s harsh gaze.
The next page was a landscape of water, glowing pink whale-like fish circling below, as if Rema had painted it standing on a boat. The water was richly green and clear, showing the brightly colored coral collecting on the seafloor.
“Where is this?” I asked, my fingers tracing the whale's fin.
“Ah, that was on Axia, a mostly ocean planet. I was on vacation, and the colors spoke to me.”
I flipped the page, and smiled at the cheeky little lizard kid grinning back at me, her gap tooth smile reminding me so much of human kids, minus the sharp teeth of course. Some kind of food was smeared all over her rough gray scaled cheeks and chin. Her dread-like gray tentacle hair was tangled around several suckers and her yellow dress was covered in dirt.
“That is Ola, one of the Solus engineer’s daughters. She often snuck away from the children's centers when she was young, and found her way onto the bridge. She’s one of the flight officers now.”
“That’s adorable, Rema. Have you shown her this?”
He shook his head. “No, but I should. Her father would enjoy it.”
