Page 18 of Her Alien Mercenaries
Torren snorted. “Smarter than you, yes. Me? Maybe.”
Zanyr ignored the jibe. “The thing is, she’s gentle. You’ve seen that. Right?”
“I have.” Torren kept scanning the menu on the dispenser while they talked. “Your point?”
“What is she going to think when we tell her who we were? What we did? My own family can’t deal with it. The only communication I have with them are written messages. What if she can’t accept us? What happens then?” They’d both heard stories about failed matings. They rarely ended well for anyone involved. At best, those involved were left with heartbreak and emotional scars. At worst… He didn’t want to think about that.
Torren made a selection and watched to ensure the program started before turning to look at him. “You want to lie to her for the rest of our lives? That won’t work. She’ll figure out we’re hiding something from her.”
“Yes. But not right away. I don’t want to lie to her forever.” Zanyr scrubbed a hand through his hair in frustration. “But I want her to get a chance to know who we are now before we tell her who and what we used to be.”
He tensed, expecting Torren to argue with him. To his surprise, hisanrikonly nodded. “I agree. We should wait a while before we have that conversation. A few days won’t do any harm.” He reached toward him, his fist closed and his scar visible. “We tell her soon, but not yet. She’s ourmahaya, and she deserves to know the truth.”
He sheathed his dagger and held out his hand. They crossed wrists, their scars touching. Zanyr could still remember the day they’d cut themselves and performed the bonding ritual. It felt like a lifetime ago.
“We’ve come a long way together, my brother.”
“We have. And wefoundher.” Torren looked dazed for a moment. “I wondered if we ever would.”
Zanyr tapped his chest. “You had doubts. Me? I was always sure we’d find our mate. I mean, we’re good-looking, smart, and charming. Oh, wait. I’m all those things. You’re… sorry, Vex, but let’s be honest here. You’re just you.”
“Asshole.”
“But you said it with love.”
At that moment, the dispenser gurgled, burped, and spat a generous quantity of something hot, thick, and beige into the waiting bowl. “What isthat?”
“Something called porr-idge.” Torren sounded out the strange word. “My translator is having trouble finding a match for it in our language.”
“I’m having trouble believing that’s edible.” Zanyr took the bowl out of the dispenser and sniffed it suspiciously. “It has about as much scent as it does color. As in, almost none.” He set the bowl down before it burned his fingers. “This is food. You’re sure?”
“It was on the menu, so yes, I’m sure it’s food. It was listed under breakfast and marked as a favorite item. Whatever it is, Jenna must like it.”
“You should taste it.”
Torren shot him a look of disbelief. “You sniffed it already. You try it.”
“You decided to make it.”
After a few more seconds of staring, Torren found two spoons and handed one to Zanyr. “Together.”
After swallowing, Zanyr shook his head. “Apparently porridge means ‘has no discernable flavor, texture, or smell.’ What else does she have listed under favorites? That can’t be it.”
It wasn’t. Jenna had several other meals tagged. They were familiar with several of them from eating at the Bar None and another restaurant called Earthly Delights. Curious, they selected another one neither they nor their translation program had heard of.
The second he caught a whiff of the newly prepared meal, Zanyr dug in. “Tamales are much better than porridge. You have to try this.” He took another spoonful before Torren managed even one.
“This is much better. We’ll have to ask her what ingredients the dispenser needs to make it at home.”
Zanyr was already perusing the menu, looking for something else to try. “It’s good, but do you think it’s what she’ll want to eat? She’s already had two meals today. Oh, here’s something. Chicken soup. I know what chickens are, and soup is a lighter meal.”
“And we’ve devoured half the tamale dish already. Better make her something else.”
The soup wasn’t what they’d expected. Instead of a simple broth, it was made with a medley of vegetables and bite-sized lumps of dough they decided were dumplings. It looked so good they ate it with the rest of the tamales. “We don’t know how long she’ll be, and we wouldn’t want it to get cold.”
“Definitely not.”
8
