CHAPTER 7
ALETTA
Aletta rolled over in the huge bed, tugging the blankets around her. Sleep was elusive.
After Gark’s promise to help her find Dylan, she’d been ready to take on the universe. She thought they’d be pursuing Dylan’s abductors in a matter of hours.
In hindsight, that had been incredibly naive.
Space was huge. Fucking massive.
In the three days since she’d been on this ship, she’d learned exactly nothing about Dylan’s whereabouts.
Aletta pursed her lips as she drummed her fingers against the firm mattress. Today would be different. Today, she would find outsomething.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and dug her toes into the colorful, thick pile rug that had appeared beside the bed the second day she’d been on the ship. It was so soft and far more luxurious than anything she’d ever owned. Browns and pinks clashed with purples and greens, but it worked. She tilted her head as she traced the intricate pattern with her eyes. It was so beautiful she felt bad standing on it.
Only one person could have put it there.
She’d learned that space was cold. It took a lot of energy to keep the ship warm, so it made sense to keep it as cool as the occupants could tolerate. So she didn’t dawdle on her way to the bathroom, the floor chilly under her feet.
She caught sight of herself in the mirror, frowning at the dark circles under her blue eyes. At least the scrapes and bruises she’d accumulated in her flight from the Xakul—she’d learned that’s what the species called themselves—had mostly healed.
She tugged at her earlobe with one hand and pulled her hair out of the way with the other to check the incision where her translator had been inserted. She ran a finger over the nearly invisible scar, in awe of how quickly the alien technology had healed her. If they’d had technology like this on Earth, then maybe her dad would still be alive. Her mom, too.
But there was no point worrying about a past she couldn’t change.
Aletta dropped her hair back into place and stepped into the shower, turning on the water. There was only a set amount of water for showers, so she washed quickly, dried herself on one of the huge, fluffy towels that had been placed in a stack on the bed, and toweled off her hair.
She’d been wearing a pair of oversized track pants and a tee that had to be Gark’s, but yesterday he’d shown her how to use the on-board laundry, so today she had her own clothes to wear. Aletta tugged on her underwear, jeans, shirt, and jacket, then pulled a comb through her hair, feeling a little more herself than she had since she’d arrived on The Lady.
She hurried out of the room, heading to the mess, finding it empty. Aletta wasn’t sure if she was pleased or annoyed. She huffed, placing a cup under the drinks dispenser and hitting the combination of buttons she’d memorized to make coffee. As the machine hummed, she closed her eyes, leaning back against thecounter and gripping the edge in her hands on either side of her hips.
She’d tried to ask Gark more questions, but he’d been avoiding her. When they were in the same space, he wrinkled his nose up like she stank, which she knew she didn’t, and then made an excuse to leave.
It was so frustrating. He’d promised to help find Dylan, but was blowing hot and cold. After spilling his guts about his family, and her doing the same, he had pulled back.
She’d had a moment where she thought he might be different and not like the guys back home. But he’d done exactly what they had; he’d pulled back as soon as he found out how important Dylan was to her.
If Aletta were honest, their relationship was less big-sister, little-sister and more mother-daughter. Not something most guys wanted to get saddled with.
She sighed. It wasn’t a surprise, not really. If nobody was going to help her, she’d just do it herself. That’s what her life had always been like, so why would it change now?
When the quiet chime of the door opening broke the silence, Aletta opened her eyes. Gark stepped into the mess, a tablet in one hand, staring at it. His brows were knitted in concentration. There were dark shadows under his eyes, purple ones that gave him a gaunt look, if a guy as muscular as him could be called gaunt. His hair was mussed, and his clothes rumpled as if he’d slept in them.
He looked up with a jerk before she’d had a chance to greet him. How had he known she was here? She hadn’t moved or made a sound since the door opened. It was uncanny.
Her eyes narrowed. “Good morning, Gark.” She smiled sweetly as he glanced over his shoulder as the door slid shut behind him.
Hah! He was stuck with her now. Either that or risk being extremely rude to his guest.
“Coffee?” She asked, holding out the cup she’d just made herself. She could always make another.
He frowned, clearly conflicted. He looked back at the door.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
His head snapped back to her, purple eyes widening at her statement. “It’s not that." He sighed. He walked across the room and took the cup from her hands with obvious reluctance. He looked into it and sniffed.
