Gark led the way back to his cabin, ignoring the door to A’Kar’s empty cabin as they passed. Best for her to stay in his cabin. It was bigger anyway.
He swiped his wrist over the door panel, gesturing for her to enter before him. He showed her how to operate the shower and where to find some of his spare clothes she could wear.
“Aren’t you worried I’ll steal your stuff?” She asked, brows furrowed as she looked up at him. He’d shown her the hidden viewscreen and how to look through the entertainment that was stored on the ship’s databases.
He shook his head. “No. Why would I?”
If she accepted his claim—and he didn’t want to think about the consequences if she didn’t—everything that was his would be hers as well. There was no concept of ownership for Gnaggarian mates. They were, and would always be, entwined souls for eternity. Material belongings paled in comparison to a bond felt at the molecular level.
But telling her that would probably scare her. She’d just been through more than most could tolerate in a lifetime. Now was not the time. He’d tell her about the bond in time.
“Please, sit.” He gestured to the sole chair, but she slid onto the bed and pulled a pillow over her stomach and hugged it close. She looked so small and scared.
“My father was Gnaggarian. They are a race with very strict class rules, and there is no social mobility. Your class ranking is determined at birth.”
Aletta’s mouth dropped open. “That’s awful.” Then she blew out a breath. “Although I can’t say it’s that much different on Earth.”
Gark nodded. “My mother is from one of the more higher ranking Taurean families. Her father had arranged for her to marry one of his friends?—”
Aletta pulled a face. “Some old dude? Gross.”
Gark smiled. “Exactly her sentiments. So she ran away.”
Aletta smiled. “Go her. I like her already.”
“She’d like you, too.”
Aletta’s cheeks turned a little pink, and she looked down.
“My mother hid on a shuttle, which turned out to belong to a Gnaggarian ambassador who was visiting her father.”
“Your dad?”
Gark shook his head. “No. My father was a steward on the shuttle. The lowest-ranking person. He cleaned toilets.”
Aletta didn’t flinch. “But she didn’t care.”
“She did not. And it ruined her entire life.”
Aletta frowned. “But she loves your father?”
“Loved. He died.”
“I’m sorry.”
He made a cutting motion with his hand. “Don’t be. I was a child.”
She tilted her head, blue eyes meeting his with an unnerving stare. “Why do you think her life was ruined?”
He looked away, hands clasped in his lap so tightly his knuckles turned white. He needed her to understand.
“Because her father told me.”
“Your grandfather?”
Gark ground his teeth. “No. He was clear I was no relation of his.”
She snorted. “Sounds like an asshole.”
