Page 31 of Tempting Jupiter
They’d chosen the largest living area on the ship, not for its size, but because it had everything they needed in one room. Tucked in the corner, the small food preparation area had been a welcome surprise. They’d found nothing like it in any of the other quarters. The cooking contraption had taken Seneca some time to figure out, but it had been worth the effort. Their unique physiology would keep them alive for long periods without food, but that didn’t mean they enjoyed it. This would be their first meal since the arena.
Seneca watched Jupiter pad across the room to where the woman lay on the bed. The table where they would eat their meal and the oversized bed the woman slept in, were like no other furniture on the ship. Big and sturdy, the pieces were perfect for their larger than human bodies—as if they’d been designed for Arena Dogs. There had been plenty of room for all of them when they’d grown fatigued and curled up in that bed beside the woman Jupiter called Fee.
Jupiter adjusted the blanket around her. His movements were tentative, gentle. His big, muscled body curved over her in a protective stance. What had she done to win Jupiter’s regard? The pale patches of sealer the woman had used to close his wounds stood out starkly against the coppery expanse of Jupiter’s chest. She’d done a good job of it. For that, Seneca could only be grateful. He still didn’t know if they could trust her. Whatever her motives might be, so far, the net effect of her actions seemed to benefit them. For the second day, they were together and they were free.
Seneca kept his voice soft to keep from waking the woman. “How’s she doing?”
Jupiter pressed his fingers to her forehead. “She’s cool. No sign of fever.”
“That’s good.” He might not trust her, but Seneca didn’t wish her any further harm.
Jupiter sat on the edge of the bed. “Fee, we have food prepared.” He too, spoke softly.
If she still needed sleep, they would let her sleep. But her body also needed fuel to aid the accelerated healing injection they’d given her.
Eyes still shut, she stretched her good arm over her head and pointed her toes, stretching out everything in between.
Jupiter watched intently as her movements shifted the blanket. “How’s your shoulder?”
“The pain seems manageable at the moment,” she said. Her voice was sleepy and warm and Jupiter responded with a soft growl that did funny things to Seneca’s gut. Did it affect her the same? He didn’t miss the way Jupiter leaned toward the woman, breathing in her scent. That didn’t affect anything so low as his abdomen, it tightened a fist around his heart.
“You haven’t tried moving the arm yet,” Jupiter teased.
She opened her eyes and frowned. “There’s no rush, is there?”
Jupiter barked under his breath. “You can stay in bed as long as you like, but I have no intention of letting my food get cold.”
Feeona lifted her head from the bed, eyes taking in her surroundings. “Well, why didn’t you say the food was warm?”
Seneca stilled, making himself just another item in the room. He wasn’t ready to know if she would include him into their banter or use her wit to put him firmly on the outside.
Jupiter moved off the bed and squatted down within her reaching distance. “Do you want something for the pain before you try getting up?”
“No.” Her head dropped back to the bed with a thump. “I don’t want to pass out again. How long was I out this time?”
“A day,” Jupiter rumbled.
“Not too bad.” She reached for Jupiter, using her good arm. She wrapped her fingers around his biceps and used him to slowly pull herself up into a seated position. She touched him like a woman sure of her mate.
Seneca had to look away. The ache in his chest insisted. But her scent, her voice painted a picture in his mind.
“Good,” she said. “Plenty of time for a meal before I have to check on the ship’s systems.” There was a buoyancy to her voice that Seneca found appealing. He could see how that might draw Jupiter.
Seneca’s own weakness defeated him and he let his gaze slip back to his pack-brother and the woman.
Jupiter lifted her out of the bed and into his arms. The night before, he’d urged her out of all but her under-things and into a Dog-sized tunic. It left her legs bare from just above the knee. When they’d found the tunic for her, they’d also found the clothes they were now wearing.
Jupiter carried Feeona to the table. She wrapped her good arm around his neck, pressing against him more than necessary, but not enough to be overtly seductive. She liked being in his arms—Seneca couldn’t fault her for that.
Jupiter put her down in one of the Dog-sized seats. Her bare feet didn’t reach the floor and she looked almost child-like. The lines of strain etched into her face, the way she held herself stiffly upright, made it impossible for Seneca to dislike her. She didn’t complain. She didn’t demand consideration. There was no need. Her quiet resilience did more to focus Jupiter’s attention than any play for his interest. His pack mate grabbed a pillow from the bed and stuffed it behind her back. She relaxed instantly, a result that stamped satisfaction across Jupiter’s face.
“Well, hello-there, Seneca.” Her words snapped his gaze to hers.
“Hello.” He’d been too busy studying Jupiter’s focus on her to realize hers had shifted to him. He went back to portioning the food onto platters. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“Starved.” She sniffed the air then pressed her lips together and made an mmm of approval. She shot him a smile, then her eyes went wide as she took a look at the cooking equipment. “Wow. That’s not your average food prepper.”
Seneca dipped his chin in agreement. “This room seems to have been converted for the use of Arena Dogs.”
