Page 50 of Zalis
She liked the way he said that. She shouldn’t. It was objectifying and disregarded her own thoughts and opinions. Basically just the worst, the kind of thing she hated on Earth.
Thought she hated.
Perhaps it was the way he was right there at eye level, sharing the same breath as her with a sincere look of concern on his face, or the way the nightshirt had rucked up, exposing her bare thighs, but Gemma was pretty certain her heart rate just spiked again. Hormones were doing all the driving right now.
Gemma tugged down the nightshirt. Hormones weren’t in charge. “I don’t think I can go back to sleep right now. I should drink something. Maybe water.”
“A cup of tea with honey is often a remedy for sleeplessness.”
“Sure. Sounds great.” She needed a distraction but a cup of hot tea would do.
As she lurched to her feet, Zalis said, “Stay.” Minutes later, he returned.
Steam curled over the mug. Gemma caught the scent of lemon and honey. She took a cautious sip. It was bitter. The honey helped take the edge off but it needed about twice the amount used.
“Thank you,” she said. “That chased away any lingering nightmares.”
Zalis waited patiently until she drained the mug and handed it back. “Sleep well.”
The lights flickered off. Gemma stretched out onto her side and watched him stand in the door, a dark figure illuminated against the light.
“Stay,” she said. “I sleep better when you’re here.”
He froze, as if unsure how to respond. “I can sleep on the floor.”
“The bed’s big enough for us both.” She didn’t know why she said it. She didn’t want sex, or even a snuggle.
Not true—she totally knew why. Being alone in the dark made her feel closer to the time she had been in the cage. This was the trauma rearing its ugly head, ready to make things messy.
His response was slow to arrive. “No.”
Disappointment washed over her. She rolled over, hugging the pillow as she put her back to the door. “Not a big deal. I don’t share blankets, so?—”
The door closed, leaving her in darkness.
Yeah, well, it didn’t mean anything.
A few minutes later, the door opened again. Fabric rustled as Zalis situated himself on the floor.
“Thank you,” she said.
“You sleep better when I am near,” he replied, as if that explained everything.
Gemma smiled into her pillow.
GEMMA
The days counted down until they left the ship for Val Mori and Gemma fell back on old habits. She did what LeBeauxs always did when stressed, worried, or had some heavy thinking to do: they baked.
Gemma wanted to test the quality of the ingredients from the reconstructor. Printed food had a reputation for being bland. She ordered a basic chocolate chip cookie out of curiosity, and it was a disappointment that was spongy in texture and chalky in taste. Technically edible but an insult to taste buds.
Cookies were a no go. How about the basic building blocks? Flour, salt, and sugar should be easy for the reconstructor. Butter would be tricky, and she had no idea if it could do eggs. The yolk, the white, and the shell, seemed complicated and the machine did not handle complicated well. If the eggs were a weird mess, she’d try powdered eggs next.
Beyond keeping her hands busy, the experiment gave her a chance to figure out how the rest of the kitchen equipment worked. Every oven was different and the one in her apartment had been a diva with a hot spot that required her to rotate everybatch of chicken nuggets—dinos were the best—lest half the dinos be burnt on the bottom.
So far, the most unexpected challenge was the counter height. Designed for a Mahdfel, the counters were just a little too tall to work comfortably at. Even the chairs at the dining table required her to hop into the seat, making her feel like a kid with the way her toes skimmed the floor. Standing at the table to work was fine for now but not a good long-term solution. She’d need a human-scale workbench or counter.
If she stayed.
